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HISTORICAL MEMORIALS OF CANTERBURY 



Canterbury Cathedral. 



HISTORICAL MEMORIALS 



CANTERBURY 



The Landing of Augustine 

The Murder of Becket Edward the Black Piince 

Beckefs Shrine 



BY 

ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY, D.D. 

It 

ILatc Dfan of EHcstminsfcr 

FORMERLY CANON OF CANTERBURY 



SECOND AMERICAN FROM THE ELEVENTH LONDON 
EDITION 



?32Eitf) Hlustrations 



NEW YORK 
ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY 

(incorporated) 
182 Fifth Aven u e 



<'^ O^ 






John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 



" BECUCST 

*^° REV. iJULfUS W. ATWODO 

JUNE S, 194S 



TO THE VENERABLE 

BENJAMIN HARRISON, 

ARCHDEACON" OF MAIDSTONE AND CANON OF CANTERBURY, 

IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE OF MUCH KINDNESS, 

THESE SLIGHT MEMORIALS OF THE CITY AND CATHEDRAL 

WHICH HE HAS SO FAITHFULLY SERVED 

ARE INSCRIBED WITH SINCERE RESPECT 

BY THE AUTHOR. 



CONTENTS. 



I. — LANDING OF AUGUSTINE AND CONVERSION OF 
ETIIELBERT. 

Tlie five landings, 21 ; Gregory the Great, 23-27 ; Dialugue witli the 
Anglo-Saxon slaves, 28, 29 ; Mission of Augustine, 30, 31 ; Land- 
ing at Ebbe's Fleet, 32-34. 

Ethelbert and Bertha, 34 ; St. Martin's Church, 35 ; Interview of 
Ethelbert and Augustine, 36-39 ; Arrival of Augustine at Canter- 
bury, 39, 40; Stable-gate, 41; Baptism of Ethelbert and of the 
Kentish people, 41, 42 ; Worship in tlie Church of St. Pancras, 43 ; 
First endowment in the grant of the Cathedral of Canterbury, 45 ; 
Monastery, library, and burial-ground of St. Augustine's Abbey, 
47 ; Foundation of the Sees of Rochester and London, 49 ; Death 
of Augustine, 50 ; Reculver, 52 ; Death of Ethelbert, 52. 

Effects of Augustine's mission : Primacy of Canterbury, 53, 54 ; Ex- 
tent of English diocei^es, 55 ; Toleration of Christian diversities, 
56 ; Toleration of heathen customs, 57-59 ; Great results from 
small beginnings, 59-62. 

II. — MURDER OF BECKET. 

Variety of judgments on the event, 67, 68 ; Sources of information, 
69, 70. 

Return of Becket from France : Controversy with the Archbishop of 
York on the rights of coronation, 71-73 ; Parting with the Abl>ot 
of St. Albans at Harrow, 74 ; Insults from the Brocs of Saltwood, 
75 ; Scene in the cathedral on Christmas Day, 76, 77. 

Fury of the king, 79 ; The four kniglits, 80 ; Their arrival at Salt- 
wood, 83 ; at St. Augustine's Abbey, 83 ; The fatal Tuesday, 84, 
85 ; The entrance of the knights into the palace, 86. 

Appearance of Becket, 87 ; Interview with the knights, 88-94 ; Their 
assault on the palace, 95. 



X CONTENTS. 

Retreat of Becket to the cathedral, 95 ; Miracle of the lock, 96 ; Scene 
in the cathedral, 97, 98 ; Entrance of the knights, 99 ; The transept 
of "The Martyrdom," 101, 102. 

Meeting of the knij^hts and the Archbishop, 103 ; Struggle, 104, 105 ; 
The murder, 106-109; Plunder of the palace, 110; The storm, 
110. 

The dead body. 111 ; The watching in the choir, 112 ; The discovery 
of the haircloth, 112, 113; The aurora borealis, 114. 

The morning, 115; Unwrajjping of the corpse and discovery of the 
vermin, 115, 116; Burial in the crypt, 117; Desecration and re- 
consecration of the cathedral, 118 ; Canonization, 119. 

Escape of the murderers, 120; Turning-table at South Mailing, 121; 
Legend of their deaths, 121-123 ; Their real history, 124 ; More- 
ville, Fitzurse, Bret, Eitzrauulph, 125,126; Tracy, 126-131; Pic- 
torial representations of the murder, 131-133. 

The king's remorse, 133-135 ; Penance at Argenton, Gorham, and 
Avranches, 136, 137 ; Hide from Southampton, 139 ; Entrance into 
Canterbury, 140; Penance in the crypt, 140, 141 ; Absolution, 142; 
Conclusion, 144-146. 

III. — EDWAHD THE BLACK PRINCE. 

Historical lessons of Canterbury Cathedral, 150; The tombs, 151, 
Birth of the Black Prince, 152; Union of hereditary qualities, 153; 

Education at Queen's College, Oxford, 1.53, 154; Wycliffe, 155. 
Battle of Cressy, 155-159; Name of "Black Prince," 159; Battle of 

Poitiers, 160-163. 
Visit to Canterbury, 164 ; " Black Prince's Well " at Harldedown, 164 ; 

" King John's Pri.son," 164. 
Marriage — chantry in the crypt, 165 ; "Fawkes' Hall," 166 ; Spanish 

campaign, 166 ; Return — sickness, 167 ; Appearance in Parliament, 

167; Death-bed, 168, 169; Exorcism by the Bishop of Bangor, 

170; Death, 171. 

Mourning, 171, 172; Funeral, 173, 174; Tomb, 17.5-179; Effects of 
the Prince's life: (1) English and French wars, 181 ; (2) Chivalry 
— sack of Limoges, 182, 183 ; (3) First great English captain, and 
first English gentleman, 184-186. 

Appendix. 

1. Okdinance for the two Chantries founded by the Black 

Prince in the Undercroft of Christ Church, Canterbury, 

187. 

2. The Will of the Black Prince, 194. 
Notes by Mr. Albert Wav, 203. 



CONTENTS. xi 

IV. — THE SHRINE OF BECKET. 

Comparative insignificance of Canterbury Cathedral before the murder 

of Becket, 220. 
Kelative position of Christ Church and St. Augustine's, 221-223 ; 

Change effected by Archbishop Cuthbert, 224. 
Effect of tlie " Martyrdom," 226 ; Spread of the worship of Saint 

Thomas in Italy, France, Syria, 227 ; in Scotland and England, 

228, 229; in London, 230. 
Altar of the Sword's Point, 231 ; Tluiider by Roger and Benedict, 232, 
The tomb in the crypt, 233 ; Henry II., Louis VII., Richard I., John, 

233, 234. 
Erection of the Shrine, 234 ; Tiie fire of 1174, 234 : AVilliam of Sens 

and William tlie Englishman, 235 ; iMilargement of the eastern 

end, 238; The Watching Chamber, 238. 
The translation of the relics in 1220, 239; Henry III., Langton, 239, 

240. 
Pilgrimages, 243 ; Approach from Sandwich, 243 ; Approach from 

Southampton, 244 ; The " Pilgrims' lioad," 244 ; Approach from 

London, 245 ; Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, 245-250. 
Entrance into Canterbury, 251. 252; Jubilees, 253; The inns, 255; 

The Chequers, 256 ; The convents, 257. 
Entrance into tlie cathedral, 258. 
The nave, 259 ; The " Martyrdom," 260 ; The crypt, 261 ; The steps, 

263; The crown, 265; The Shrine, 265-269, The Regale of 

France, 270. 
The well and the pilgrims' signs, 272-274 ; The dinner, 275 ; The 

town, 275 ; The return. 276. 
Greater pilgrims, 276 ; Edward I., 276 ; Isal)ella, 276 ; John of France, 

277. 
Reaction against pilgrimage, 278 ; The Lollards, 278 ; Simon of Sud- 
bury, 279 ; Erasmus and Colet, 280-283 ; Scene at llarbledown, 

284. 
Visit of Henry VIII. and Charles V., 286. 
The Reformation, 287 ; Abolition of the festival, 287 ; Cranmer's 

banquet, 288 ; Trial of Becket, 289-292 ; Visit of Madame de Mon- 

treuii, 293 ; Destruction of the Shrine, 294 ; Proclamation, 

295. 
Conclusion, 301. 
Xote A. — Extracts from the " Polistoire " of Canterbury Cathedral, 

305. 
Note B. — Extracts from the '' Travels of the Bohemian Embassy " in 

1465, 309. 



ILLUSTRATIONS IN TEXT. 



PAGE 

Map of the Isle of Thanet at the Time of the Land- 
ing OF Saint Augustine G4 

Plan of the Cathedral at the Time op the Murdek 

OF Becket 96 

The Crypt 141 

The Tomb of the Black Prince 175 

Relics of the Black Prince suspended over the Tomb . . . 178 
Enamelled Escutcheons on the Tomb of the Black Prince 207-208 
Representation of the Black Prince, illustrating the Canopy over 

the Tomb 213 

Canopy of the Black Prince's Tomb 180 

Becket's Shrine 2G7 

Representation of Becket's Shrine in a Painted 

Window 355 



The Moiuim:nt of Archbishop Tdit. 



INTRODUCTION. 



''T^HE following pages, written in intervals of leisure 
J- taken from subjects of greater importance, have 
nothing to recommend them, except such instruction 
as may arise from an endeavor to connect topics of 
local interest with the general course of history. It 
appeared to me, on the one hand, that some additional 
details might be contributed to some of the most re- 
markable events in English history, by an almost ne- 
cessary familiarity with the scenes on which those 
events took place ; and, on the other hand, it seemed 
possible that a comparative stranger, fresh from other 
places and pursuits, might throw some new light on 
local antiquities, even when they have been as well 
explored as those of Canterbury. 

To these points I have endeavored, as nearly as 
possible, to limit myself. Each of the four subjects 
which are here treated opens into much wider fields 
than can be entered upon, unless as parts of the 
general history of England. Each, also, if followed 
out in all its details, would require a more minute 
research than I am able to afford. But in each, I 
trust, something will be found which may not be alto- 
gether useless either to the antiquary or to the his- 
torian, who may wish to examine these events fully 
under their several aspects. 



xvi INTKODUCTION. 

Other similar subjects, if time and opportunity should 
be granted, may perhaps be added at some future pe- 
riod. But the four here selected are the most im- 
portant in themselves, as well as the most closely 
connected with the history of Canterbury Cathedral. 
I have accordingly placed them together, apart from 
other topics of kindred but subordinate interest. 

The first Essay is the substance of a lecture delivered 
at Canterbury in 1854, and thus partakes of a more 
popular character than so grave a subject as the con- 
version of England would naturally require. Eor the 
reasons above stated, I have abstained from entering 
on the more general questions which the event sug- 
gests, — the character of Gregory the Great ; the rela- 
tion of the Anglo-Saxon to the British Church ; and 
the spread of Anglo-Saxon Christianity. My purpose 
was simply to exhibit in full detail the earliest tradi- 
tions of England and Canterbury respecting the mis- 
sion of Augustine, and the successive steps by which 
that mission was established in Kent. And I have 
endeavored by means of these details to illustrate the 
remote position which Britain then occupied in relation 
to the rest of the civilized world, and the traces which 
were left in the country by the Eoman civilization, 
then for the first time planted among our rude Saxon 
forefathers. 

The second Essay, which originally appeared in the 
" Quarterly Review," September, 1853, has been since 
considerably enlarged by additional information, con- 
tributed chiefly through the kindness of friends. Here, 
again, the general merits of the controversy between 
Henry II. and Becket have been avoided; and my 
object was then simply to give the facts of its closing 
scene. For this, my residence at Canterbury provided 



INTRODUCTION. xvii 

special advantages. The narrative accordingly pur- 
poses to embrace every detail which can throw any 
light on the chief event connected with the history of 
the cathedral. In order to simplify the number of 
references, I have sometimes contented myself with 
giving one or two out of the many authorities, wlien 
these were sufficient to guarantee the facts. Of the 
substantial correctness of the whole story, the remark- 
able coincidences between the several narratives, and 
again between the narratives and the actual localities, 
appear to me decisive proofs. 

The third Essay was delivered as a lecture at Can- 
terbury, m July, 1852. Although, in point of time, 
it preceded the others, and was in part intended as 
an introduction to any future addresses or essays of 
a similar kind, I have removed it to a later place for 
the sake of harmonizing it with the chronological order 
of the volume. The lecture stands nearly as it was 
delivered; nor have I altered some allusions to our 
own time, which later events have rendered, strictly 
speaking, inapplicable, though perhaps, in another 
point of view, more intelligible than when first writ- 
ten. Poitiers is not less interesting when seen in the 
light of Inkermann, and the French and English wars 
receive a fresh and happy illustration from the French 
and English alliance. There is, of course, little new 
that can be said of the Black Prince ; and my chief 
concern was with the incidents which form his con- 
nection with Canterbury. But in the case of so 
remarkable a monument as his tomb and effigy in the 
cathedral, a general sketch of the man was almost 
unavoidable. The account of his death and funeral 
has not, to my knowledge, been put together before. 
The fourth Essay is the substance of two lectures 



XVlil INTRODUCTION. 

delivered at Canterbury in 1855. The story of the 
Shrine of Becket was an almost necessary comple- 
ment to the story of his murder ; its connection with 
Chaucer's poem gives it more than local interest ; and 
it brings the history of the cathedral down to the 
period of the Eeformation. Some few particulars are 
new ; and I have endeavored to represent, in this most 
conspicuous instance, the rise, decline, and fall of a 
state of belief and practice now extinct in England, 
and only seen in modified forms on the Continent. 

In the Appendix to the last two lectures will be 
found various original documents, most of them now 
published for the first time, from the archives of the 
Chapter of Canterbury. For this labor, as well as for 
much assistance and information in other parts of the 
volume, I am indebted to the kindness of my friend 
and relative, Mr. Albert Way. He is responsible only 
for his own contributions ; but without his able and 
ready co-operation I should hardly have ventured on 
a publication requiring more antiquarian knowledge 
and research than I could bestow upon it ; and the 
valuable Notes which he has appended to supply 
this defect will, I trust, serve to perpetuate many 
pleasant recollections of his pilgrimages to Canterbury 
Cathedral. 

In publishing a new edition of these Memorials, with 
a few slight corrections, I cannot forbear to lament 
the loss of the two distinguished archaeologists whose 
names so often occur in these pages, — Albert Way and 
Professor Willis. 

August, 1S75. 



THE LANDING OF AUGUSTINE, 



AND 



CONVERSION OF ETHELBERT. 



The authentic materials for the story of the Mission of Augustine 
are almost entu-fiy cuinprised in the first and second books of Bede's 
'' Ecclesiastical History,'' written in the beginning of tlie eighth cen- 
tury. A few ailditioual touches are given by Paul the Deacon and 
John the Deacon, in their Lives of Gregory the Great, respectively 
at the close of tlie eighth and the close of tiie ninth century ; and in 
^Ifric's "Homily ou the Death of Gregory" (a. d. 990-995), trans- 
lated by Mrs. Elstob. Some local details may be gained from " Tlie 
Chronicles of St. Augustine's Abbey," by Thorn, and " The Life of 
Saint Augustine," in the " Acta Sanctorum " of May 26, by Gocelin, — 
both monks of St. Augustine's Abbey, one in the fourteenth and the 
other in the eleventh century, — but the latter written in so rhetorical 
a strain as to be of comparatively little use except for the posthumous 
legends. 



\.X,A. 4 




The Cloisters. 



HISTORICAL 
MEMORIALS OF CANTERBURY. 



THE LANDING OF AUGUSTINE, AND CON- 
VERSION OF ETHELBERT. 



Lecture deliveked at Canterbury, April 28, 1854. 

THERE are five great landings in English history, 
each of vast importance, — the landing of Julius 
Csesar, which first revealed us to the civilized world, 
and the civilized world to us ; the landing of Hengist 
and Horsa, which gave us our English forefathers and 
our English characters ; the landing of Augustine, 
which gave us our Latin Christianity ; the landing of 
William the Conqueror, which gave us our Norman 
aristocracy ; the landing of William III., which gave 
us our free constitution. 

Of these five landings, the three first and most im- 
portant were formerly all supposed to have taken place 
in Kent. It is true that the scene of Cesar's landing 
has been removed by the present Astronomer-Royal to 
Pevensey ; but there are still strong arguments in favor 
of Deal or Hythe. Although the historical character 
of Hengist and Horsa has been questioned, yet if they 
lauded at all it must have been in Thanet. And at 



22 THE FIVE LANDINGS. 

any rate, there is no doubt of the close connection of 
the landing of Saint Augustine not only with Kent, but 
with Canterbury. 

It is a great advantage to consider the circumstances 
of this memorable event in our local history, because 
it takes us immediately into the consideration of events 
which are far removed from us both by space and time ; 
events, too, of universal interest, which lie at the be- 
ginning of the history not only of this country, but of 
all the countries of Europe, — the invasion of the North- 
ern tribes into the Eomau Empire, and their conversion 
to Christianity. 

We cannot understand who Augustine was, or why 
he came, without understanding something of the whole 
state of Europe at that time. It was, we must remem- 
ber, hardly more than a hundred years since the Eoman 
Empire had been destroyed, and every country was like 
a seething caldron, just settling itself after the invasion 
of the wild barbarians who had burst in upon the civ- 
ilized world, and trampled down the proud fabric which 
-had so long sheltered the arts of peace and the security 
of law. One of these countries was our own. The 
fierce Saxon tribes, by whomsoever led, were to the 
Romans in Britain what the Goths had been in Italy, 
what the Vandals had been in Africa, what the Franks 
had been in France ; and under them England had 
again become a savage nation, cut off from the rest of 
the world, almost as much as it had been before the 
landing of Julius Ciesar. In this great convulsion it 
w^as natural that the civilization and religion of the 
old world should keep the firmest hold on the country 
and the city which had so long been its chief seat. 
That country, as we all know, was Italy, and that 
city was Eome. And it is to Eome that we must 



GREGORY THE GREAT. 23 

now transport ourselves, if we wish to know liow and 
from whence it was that Augustine came, — by what 
means, under God, our fathers received the light of 
the Gospel. 

In the general crash of all the civil institutions of 
the Empire, when the last of the Csesars had been 
put down, when the Eoman armies were no longer 
able to maintain their hold on the world, it was natu- 
ral that the Christian clergy of Eome, with the Bishop 
at their head, should have been invested with a new and 
unusual importance. They retained the only sparks of 
religious or of civilized life which the wild German 
tribes had not destroyed, and they accordingly remained 
still erect amidst the ruins of almost all besides. 

It is to one of these clergy, to one of these Bishops 
of Eome, that we have now to be introduced ; and if, 
in the story we are about to hear, it shall appear that 
we derived the greatest of all the blessings we now 
enjoy from one who filled the office of Pope of Eome, 
it will not be without its advantage, for two good rea- 
sons : First, because, according to the old proverb, every 
one, even the Pope, must have his due, — and it is as 
ungenerous to deny him the gratitude which he really 
deserves, as it is unwise to give him the honor to which 
he has no claim ; and, secondly, because it is useful to 
see how different were all the circumstances which 
formed our relations to him then and now, — how, 
although bearing the same name, yet in reality the 
position of the man and the office, his duties towards 
Christendom, and the duties of Christendom towards 
him, were as different from what they are now, as 
almost any two things are one from the other. 

It is, then, on Gregory the Great that we are to fix 
our attention. At the time we are first to meet him. 



24 GREGORY TPIE GREAT. 

he was not yet Pope. He was still a monk in the 
great monastery of St. Andrew, which he had himself 
founded, and which still exists, on the Caslian Mount 
at Eome, standing conspicuous amongst the Seven 
Hills, — marked by its crown of pines, — rising imme- 
diately behind the vast walls of the Colosseum, which 
we may still see, and which Gregory must have seen 
every day that he looked from his convent windows. 

This is not the place to discuss at length the good 
and evil of his extraordinary character, or the position 
which he occupied in European history, almost as the 
founder of Western Christendom. I will now only 
touch on those points which are necessary to make us 
understand what he did for us and our fathers. He 
was remarkable amongst his contemporaries for his 
benevolence and tenderness of heart. Many proofs 
of it are given in the stories which are told about 
him. The long marble table is still shown at Rome 
where he used to feed twelve beggars every day. 
There is a legend that on one occasion a thirteenth 
appeared among them, an unbidden guest, — an angel, 
whom he had thus entertained unawares. There is 
also a true story, which tells the same lesson, — that 
he was so much grieved on hearing of the death of a 
poor man, who in some great scarcity in Eome had 
been starved to death, that he inflicted on himself the 
severest punishment, as if ho had been responsible for 
it. He also showed his active charity in one of those 
seasons which give opportunity to all faithful pastors 
and all good men for showing what they are really 
made of, during one of the great pestilences which rav- 
aged Piome immediately before his elevation to the pon- 
tificate. All travellers who have been at Rome will 
remember the famous legend, describing how, as he 



GREGORY THE GREAT. 25 

approached at the head of a procession, chanting the Lit- 
any, to the great mausoleum of the Emperor Hadrian, 
he saw in a vision the Destroying Angel on the top of 
the tower sheatliing his sword ; and from this vision, 
the tower, when it afterwards was turned into the 
Papal fortress, derived the name of the Castle of St. 
Angelo. Nor was his charity confined to this world. 
His heart yearned towards those old pagan heroes or 
sages who had been gathered to their fathers w^ithout 
hearing of the name of Christ. He could not bear to 
think, with the belief tliat prevailed at that time, that 
they had been consigned to destruction. One especially 
there was, of whom he was constantly reminded in 
his walks through Eome, — the great Emperor Trajan, 
whose statue he always saw rising above him at the 
top of the tall column which stood in the market- 
place, called from him the Forum of Trajan. It is 
said that he Vv^as so impressed with the thought of 
the justice and goodness of this heathen sovereign, that 
he earnestly prayed, in St. Peter's Church, that God 
would even now give him grace to know the name of 
Christ and be converted. And it is believed that from 
the veneration which he entertained for Trajan's mem- 
ory, this column remained when all around it was shat- 
tered to pieces ; and so it still remains, a monument 
both of the goodness of Trajan and the true Christian 
charity of Gregory. Lastly, like many, perhaps like 
most remarkable men, he took a deep interest in chil- 
dren. He instructed the choristers of his convent 
himself in those famous chants which bear his name. 
The book from which he taught them, the couch on 
which he reclined during the lesson, even the rod with 
which he kept the boys in order, were long preserved 
at Ptome; and in memory of this part of his life a 



26 GREGORY THE GREAT. 

children's festival was held on his day as late as the 
seventeenth century. ^ 

I may seem to have detained you a long time in 
describing these general features of Gregory's charac- 
ter. But they are necessary to illustrate the well- 
known story 2 which follows, and which was preserved, 
not, as it would seem, at Eome, but amongst the grate- 
ful descendants of those who owed their conversion to 
the incident recorded. There was one evil of the time, 
from which we are now happily free, which especially 
touched his generous heart, — the vast slave-trade which 
then went on through all parts of Europe. It was not 
only, as it once was in the British Empire, from the 
remote wilds of Africa that children were carried off 
and sold as slaves, but from every country in Europe. 
The wicked traffic was chiefly carried on by Jews and 
Samaritans;^ and it afterwards was one especial object 
of Gregory's legislation to check so vast an evil. He 
was, in fact, to that age what Wilberforce and Clark- 

1 Lappeuberg's History of England (Eng. tr.), i. 130. 

2 The story is told in Bede, ii. 1, § 89, and from him is copied, with 
very slight variations, by all other ancient medieval writers. It has 
been told by most modern historians, but in no instance that I have 
seen, with perfect accuracy, or with the full force of all the expressions 
employed. As Bede speaks of knowing it by tradition ("traditione 
majorum "), he may, as a Northumbrian, have lieard it from the families 
of the North uml)riau slaves. But most probably it was preserved 
in St. Augustine's monastery at Canterbury, and communicated to 
Bede, with other traditions of the Kentish Church, by Albinus, Abbot 
of St. Augustine's (Bede, Pref. p. 2). As the earliest of " Canterbury 
Tales," it seemed worthy of being here repeated with all the illustra- 
tions it could receive. There is nothing in the story intrinsically im- 
probable ; and altliough Gregory may have been actuated by many 
motives of a more general character, such as are ably imagined by Mr. 
Kemble, iu the interesting chapter on this subject in his " Saxons in 
England," yet perhaps we learn as much by considering in detail what 
in England at least was believed to be the origin of the mission. 

3 See Milman's History of the Jews, iii. 208. 



587.] GREGORY THE GREAT. 27 

son, by their noble Christian zeal, have been to ours. 
And it may be mentioned, as a proof both of his en- 
lightened goodness, and of his interest in this particu- 
lar cause, that he even allowed and urged the sale of 
sacred vessels, and of the property of the Church, for 
the purpose of redeeming captives. AVith this feeling 
in his mind he one day went with the usual crowd that 
thronged to the market-place at Eome when they heard, 
as they did on this occasion, that new cargoes of mer- 
chandise had been imported from foreign parts. It was 
possibly in that very market-place of which I have 
before spoken, where the statue of his favorite Trajan 
was looking down upon him from the summit of his 
lofty pillar. To and fro, before him, amongst the bales 
of merchandise, passed the gangs of slaves, torn from 
their several homes to be sold amongst the great fami- 
lies of the nobles and gentry of Italy, — a sight such 
as may still be seen (happily nowhere else) in the re- 
mote East, or in the Southern States of North America. 
These gangs were doubtless from various parts : tliere 
were the swarthy hues of Africa ; there were the dark- 
haired and dark-eyed inhabitants of Greece and Sicily ; 
there were the tawny natives of Syria and Egypt. But 
amongst these, one group arrested the attention of Greg- 
ory beyond all others. It was a group of three ^ boys, 
distinguished from the rest by their fair complexion 
and white ilesh, the beautiful expression of their coun- 
tenances, and their light flaxen hair, which, by the side 
of the dark captives of the South, seemed to him al- 
most of dazzling brightness,^ and which, by its long 
curls, showed that they were of noble origin. 

1 Thorn, 1737. " Tres pueros." He alone gives the number. 

2 " Candidi corporis," Bede ; " lactei corporis," Paul the Dea- 
con, c. 17; " venusti vuitu-s, capillorum nitore," John the Deacon; 



28 DIALOGUE WITH ANGLO-SAXON SLAVES. [587. 

Nothing gives us a stronger notion of the total sep- 
aration of the northern and southern races of Europe 
at that time than the emotion which these peculiarities, 
to us so familiar, excited. Gregory stood and looked at 
them ; his fondness for children of itself would have 
led him to pity them ; that they should be sold for 
slaves struck (as we have seen) on another tender chord 
in his heart ; and he asked from what part of the world 
they had been brought The slave merchant, probably 
a Jew, answered, " From Britain ; and there all the in- 
habitants have this bright complexion." ^ 

It would almost seem as if this was the first time 
that Gregory had ever heard of Britain. It was indeed 
to Eome nearly what New Zealand is now to England ; 
and one can imagine that fifty years ago, even here, there 
may have been many, even of the educated classes, who 
had a very dim conception of where New Zealand was, 
or what were its inhabitants. The first question which 
he asked about this strange country was what we might 
have expected. The same deep feeling of compassion 
that he had already shown for the fate of the good 
Trajan, now made him anxious to know whether these 
beautiful children — so innocent, so interesting — were 
pagans or Christians. " They are pagans," was the 
reply. The good Gregory heaved a deep sigh '^ from the 
bottom of his heart, and broke out into a loud lamen- 
tation expressed with a mixture of playfulness, which 

" crine riitila," Gocelin ; " capillos prfficipui candoris," Paulus Diac. ; 
" capillum forma egrep:ia," Bede ; " noble [cethe/ice'] heads of hair," 
iELFKic. It is from these last expressions that it may be inferred that 
the hair was unshorn, and therefore indicated that the children were 
of noble birth. See Palijrave's Historj^ of the Anglo-Saxons, p. 58 ; 
Lappenberg's History of England, i. 136. 

1 " De Britannias insula, cujus incolarum omuis facies simili can- 
dore fulgescit." — Acta Sanctorum, p. 141 ; John the Deacon, i. 21. 

2 " Intimo ex corde longa traheus suspiria." — Bede. 



587.] DIALOGUE WITH ANGLO-SAXON SLAVES. 29 

partly was in accordance with tlie custom of the time,^ 
partly perhaps was suggested by the tliought that it 
was children of whom he was speaking. "Alas! more 
is the pity, that faces so full of light and brightness 
should be in the hands of the Prince of Darkness, that 
such grace of outward appearance should accompany 
minds without the grace of God within ! " ^ He went 
on to ask what was the name of their nation, and was 
told that they were called "Angles " or " English." It 
is not without a thrill of interest that we hear the 
proud name which now is heard with respect and awe 
from the rising to the setting sun, thus uttered for the 
first time in the metropolis of the world, — thus awak- 
ing for the first time a response in a Christian heart. 
" Well said," replied Gregory, still following out his 
play on the words ; " rightly are they called Angles, for 
they have the face of angels, and they ought to be fel- 
low-heirs of angels in heaven." Once more he asked, 
" What is the name of the province from which they 
w^ere brought?" He was told that they were "Deirans," 
that is to say, that they were from Deira ^ (the land of 
" wild beasts," or " wild deer "), the name then given to 
the tract of country between the Tyne and the Humber, 
including Durham and Yorkshire. " Well said, again," 
answered Gregory, with a play on the word that can 
only be seen in Latin; " rightly are they called Deirans, 
plucked as they are from God's ire [dc ird Dci\, and 
called to the mercy of Christ." Once again he asked, 
" And who is the king of that province ? " " Ella," was 

1 The anonymous biographer of Gregory, in the "Acta Sanctorum," 
March 12, p. 130, rejoices in the Pope's own name of good omen, — 
" Gregorius," quasi " Vigilantius." 

2 " Tarn lucidi vultus . . . auctor teuehrarum . . . gratia frontis 
. . . gratia Dei," Bede ; "Black Devil," iELFRic 

3 "Deore; Thier; deer." See Soames' Anglo-Saxon Church, p. 31. 



30 MISSION OF AUGUSTIXE. [587. 

the reply. Every one who has ever heard of Gregory 
has heard of his Gregorian chants, and of his interest 
in sacred music ; the name of Ella reminded him of 
the Hebrew words of praise which he had introduced 
into the Eoman service,^ and he answered, " AUelujah ! 
the praise of God their Creator shall be sung in those 
parts." 

So ended this dialogue, — doubly interesting because 
its very strangeness shows us the character of the man 
and the character of his age. This mixture of the play- 
ful and the serious — this curious distortion of words 
from their original meaning ^ — was to him and his 
times the natural mode of expressing their own feelings 
and of instructing others. But it was no passing emo- 
tion which the sight of the three Yorkshire boys had 
awakened in the mind of Gregory. He went from the 
market-place to the Pope, and obtained from him at 
once permission to go and fulfil the design of his heart, 
and convert the English nation to the Christian faith. 

He was so much beloved in Eome, that great opposi- 
tion it was felt would be made to his going ; and 
therefore he started from his convent with a small band 
of his companions in the strictest secrecy. But it was 
one of the many cases that we see in human life, where 
even the best men are prevented from accomplishing 
the olijects they have most at heart. He had advanced 
three days along the great northern road, which leads 
through the Flaminian gate from Eome to the Alps. 
When ^ they halted as usual to rest at noon, they 
were lying down in a meadow, and Gregory was read- 

1 See Fleury, Histoire Ecclesiastique, book xxxvi. 18. 

2 See the account of Grefjory's own Commentary on Job, as shortly 
given in Milman's History of Latin Christianity, i. 435. 

^ " Vit. S. Grec;." — Paul the Deacon. 



587.] MISSION OF AUGUSTINE. 31 

ing ; suddenly a locust leaped upon his book, and sat 
motionless on the page. In the same spirit that had 
dictated his playful speeches to the three children, he 
began to draw morals from the name and act of the 
locust. " Eightly is it called Locusta," he said, "be- 
cause it seems to say to us ' Loco sta,' that is, ' Stay 
in your place.' I see that we shall not be able to finish 
our journey. But rise, load the mules, and let us get 
on as far as we can." It was whilst they were in the 
act of discussing this incident that there galloped to 
the spot messengers, on jaded horses, bathed in sweat, 
who had ridden after him at full speed from the Pope, 
to command his instant return. A furious mob had at- 
tacked the Pope in St. Peter's Church, and demanded 
the instant recall of Gregory. To Rome he returned ; 
and it is this interruption, humanly speaking, which 
prevented us from having Gregory the Great for the first 
Archbishop of Canterbury and founder of the English 
Church. 

Years rolled away ^ from the time of the conversation 
in the market-place before Gregory could do anything 
for the fulfilment of his wishes. But he never forgot 
it; and when he was at last elected Pope he employed 
an agent in France to buy English Christian youths of 
seventeen or eighteen years of age, sold as slaves, to be 
brought up in monasteries. But before this plan had 
led to any result, he received intelligence which deter- 
mined him to adopt a more direct course. What this 
intelligence was we shall see as we proceed. [o97.] 
Whatever it might be, he turned once more to his old 
convent on the Cffilian Hill, and from its walls sent 
forth the Prior, Augustine, with forty monks as mis- 

1 The mention of " Ella " in the dialogue fixes the date to be before 
A. D. 588. Au2;ustine was sent a. d. 597. 



32 LANDING AT EBBE'S FLEET. [597. 

sionaries to England. In one of the chapels of that 
convent there is still a picture of their departure. 

I will not detain you with his journey through 
France ; it is chiefly curious as showing how very re- 
mote England seemed to be.^ He and his companions 
•were so terrified by the rumors they heard, that they 
sent him back to Kome to beg that they might be ex- 
cused. Gregory would hear of no retreat from dangers 
which he had himself been prepared to face. At last 
they came on, and landed at Ebbe's Fleet,^ in the Isle 
of Thanet. 

Let us look for a moment on the scene of this im- 
portant event, as it now is and as it was then. You 
all remember the high ground where the white chalk 
cliffs of Ramsgate suddenly end in Pegwell Bay. Look 
from that high ground over the level flat which lies be- 
tween these cliffs and the point where they begin again 
in St. Margaret's cliffs beyond Walmer. Even as it is, 
you see why it must always have invited a landing 
from the continent of Europe. The wide opening be- 
tween the two steep cliffs must always have afforded 
the easiest approach to any invaders or any settlers. 
But it was still more so at the time of which we are 
now speaking. The level ground which stretches be- 
tween the two cliffs was then in great part covered with 
water ; the sea spread much farther inland from Peg- 
well Bay, and the Stour, or Weusome^ (as that part 

1 Greg. Epp., v. 10. 

2 It is called variously Hypwine, Epwine, Hlped, Hepe, Epped, 
Wipped Fleet ; aud the name has been variously derived from 
Whipped (a Saxon chief, killed in the first battle of Hengist), Hope 
(a haven), JWe< (from its being afterwards the port of the abbey of 
St. Augustine). Fleet is "Port." 

3 The " Boarded Groin " which Lewis (Isle of Thanet, p. 83) fixes 
as the spot, still remains, a little beyond the coast-guard station, at 
the point marked in the Ordnance Survey as the lauding place of the 



597.] LANDING AT EBBE'S FLEET. 33 

was then called), instead of being a scanty stream that 
hardly makes any division between the meadows on 
one side and the other, was then a broad river, making 
the Isle of Thanet really an island, nearly as much as 
the Isle of Sheppey is now, and stretching at its mouth 
into a wide estuary, which formed the port of Eich- 
borough. Moreover, at that remote age, Sandwich ha- 
ven was not yet choked up ; so that all the ships which 
came from France and Germany, on their way to Lon- 
don, sailed up into this large port, and through the 
river, out at the other side by Eeculver, or, if they 
were going to land in Kent, at Richborough on the 
mainland, or at Ebbe's Fleet in the Isle of Thanet. 

Ebbe's Fleet is still the name of a farm-house on a 
strip of high ground rising out of Minster marsh, 
which can be distinguished from a distance by its line 
of trees ; and on a near approach you see at a glance 
that it must once have been a headland or promontory 
running out into the sea between the two inlets of the 
estuary of the Stour on one side, and Pegwell Bay on 
the other. What are now the broad green fields were 
then the waters of the sea. The tradition that " some 
landing" took place there, is still preserved at the 
farm, and the field of clover which rises immediately 
on its north side is shown as the spot. 

Here it was that, according to the story preserved in 
the Saxon Chronicle, Hengist and Horsa had sailed in 
with their three ships and the band of warriors who 
conquered Vortigern. And here now Augustine came 
with his monks, his choristers, and the interpreters 

Saxons. " Cotmansfield " seems to be the high ground running at the 
back of level ; the only vestige of the name now preserved is "Cotting- 
ton." But no tradition marks the spot, and it must then have been 
covered by the sea. 

8 



34 ETHELBERT AND BERTHA. [597. 

they had brought with them from France. The Saxon 
conquerors, hke Augustine, are described as having 
landed, not at Eichborough, but at Ebbe's Fleet, be- 
cause they were to have the Isle of Thanet, for their 
first possession, apart from the mainland ; and Au- 
gustine landed there that he might remain safe on that 
side the broad river till he knew the mind of the king. 
The rock was long preserved on which he set foot, and 
which, according to a superstition found in almost 
every country, was supposed to have received the im- 
pression of his footmark. In later times it became an 
object of pilgrimage, and a little chapel was built over 
it; though it was afterwards called the footmark of 
Saint Mildred, and the rock, even till the beginning of 
the last century, was called " Saint Mildred's rock," ^ 
from the later saint of that name, whose fame in the 
Isle of Thanet then eclipsed that of Augustine him- 
self. There they landed " in the ends," " in the corner 
of the world," ^ as it was then thought, and waited 
secure in their island retreat till they heard how the an- 
nouncement of their arrival was received by Ethelbert, . 
King of Kent. 

To Ethelbert we must now turn.-'^ He was, it was 
believed, great-grandson of Eric, son of Hengist, sur- 

1 "Not many years ago," says Hasted (iv. 325), writing in 1799. 
" A few years ago," says Lewis (Isle of Thanet, p. 58), writing in 1723. 
Compare, for a similar transfei-ence of names in more sacred localities, 
the footmark of Mahomet in the Mosque of Omar, called during the 
Crusades the footmark of Christ ; and the footmark of Mahomet's 
mule on Sinai, now called the footmark of the dromedary of Moses. 
The stone Avas thought to be gifted with the power of flying back to 
its original place if ever removed. (Lambard's Kent, p. 104.) 

2 " Fines mundi — gens Anglorum in mundi angulo posita." — Greg. 
Epp., V. 158, 159. Observe the play on the word, as in page 29. 

^ Ethelbert is the same name as Adalbert and Albert /as Adalfuns 
= Alfous, Uodelrich = Ulrich), meaning "Noble-bright." 



597.] ST. MARTIN'S CHURCH. 35 

named " the Ash," ^ and father of the dynasty of the 
"Ashmgs;' or "sons of the Ash-tree," the name by 
which the kings of Kent were known. He had, be- 
sides, acquired a kind of imperial authority over the 
other Saxon kings as far as the Humber. To con- 
solidate his power, he had married Bertha, a French 
princess, daughter of the King of Paris. It was on 
this marriage that all the subsequent fate of England 
turned. Ethelbert was, like all the Saxons, a heathen ; 
but Bertha, like all the rest of the French royal family 
from Clovis downwards, was a Christian. She had her 
Christian chaplain with her, Luidhard, a French Ijisliop ; 
and a little chapel ^ outside the town, which had once 
been used as a place of British Christian worship, was 
given up to her use. That little chapel, " on the east 
of the city," as Bede tells us, stood on the gentle slope 
now occupied by the venerable Church of St. Martin. 
The present church, old as it is, is of far later date ; 
but it unquestionably retains in its walls some of the 
Roman bricks and Eoman cement of Bertha's chapel ; 
and its name may perhaps have been derived from 
Bertha's use.^ Of all the great Christian saints of 

1 "Ashing" (Bede, ii. 5, § 101) was probably a general name for 
hero, in allusion to the primeval man of Teutonic mythology, who was 
believed to have sprung from the sacred Ash-tree Ycjdrasil. (Grimm's 
Deutsche Myth., i. 324, 531, 617.) Compare the venerable Ash which 
gives its name to the village of Donau-Eschiugen, " the Ashes of the 
Danube," by the source of that river. 

■^ The postern-gate of the Precincts opposite St. Augustine's gate- 
way is on the site Queupngate, a name derived — but by a very doubtful 
etymology — from the tradition that through it Bertha passed from 
Ethelbert's palace to St. Martin's. (Battely s Canterbury, p. 16.) 

3 It is, however, possible that the name of Saint Martin may have 
been given to the church of the British Christians before. Bede's 
expression rather leans to the earlier origin of the name : " Erat . . . 
ecclesiain houorem Sancti Martini nntii]uitus facta dum adhuc Romani 
Britanniam incolerent." Saint Ninian, who labored amongst the South- 



36 INTERVIEW OF ETIIELBERT AND AUGUSTINE. [597. 

whom she had heard in France before she came to 
England, the most famous was Saint Martin of Tours ; 
and thus the name which is now so familiar to us that 
we hardly think of asking why the church is so called, 
may possibly be a memorial of the recollections which 
the French princess still cherished of her own native 
country in a land of strangers. 

To her it would be no new thought that possibly she 
might be the means of converting her husband. Her 
own great ancestor, Clovis, had become a Christian 
through the influence of his wife Clotilda, and many 
other instances had occurred in like manner elsewhere. 
It is no new story ; it is the same that has often been 
enacted in humbler spheres, — of a careless or unbeliev- 
ing husband converted by a believing wife. But it is 
a striking sight to see planted in the very beginning of 
our history, with the most important consequences to 
the whole world, the same fact which every one must 
have especially witnessed in the domestic history of 
families, high and low, throughout the land. 

It is probable that Ethelbert had heard enough from 
Bertha to dispose him favorably towards the new re- 
ligion ; and Gregory's letters show that it was the 
tidings of this predisposition which had induced him 
to send Augustine. But Ethelbert's conduct on hear- 
ing that the strangers were actually arrived was still 
hesitating. He would not suffer them to come to Can- 
terbury ; they were to remain in the Isle of Thanet 

ern Picts, a.d. 412-432, dedicated his church at "Whitehaven to Saint 
Martin. Hasted (History of Kent, iv. 496) states (but without giving any 
authority), that it was originally dedicated to the Virgin, and was dedi- 
cated to Saint Martin by Luidhard. The legendary origin of tlie church, 
as of that in the Castle of Dover, of St. Peter's (Cornhill), of West- 
minster Abbey, and of Winchester Cathedral, is traced to King Lucius. 
(Ussher, Britannicarum Ecclesiarum Antiquitates, i)p. 129, 130.) 



597.] INTERVIEW OF ETHELBERT AND AUGUSTINE. 37 

with the Stoiir flowing between himself and them ; and 
he also stipulated that on no account should they hold 
their first interview under a roof, — it must be in the 
open air, for fear of the charms and spells which he 
feared they might exercise over him. It was exactly 
the savage's notion of religion, that it exercises influ- 
ence, not by moral and spiritual, but by magical means. 
This was the first feeling ; this it was that caused the 
meeting to be held not at Canterbury, but in the Isle 
of Thanet, in the wide open space, — possibly at Ebbe's 
Fleet, — possibly, according to another account, under 
an ancient oak on the high upland ground in the centre 
of the island,^ then dotted with woods which have long 
since vanished.^ 

The meeting must have been remarkable. The Sax- 
on king, " the Son of the Ash-tree," with his wild sol- 
diers round, seated on the bare ground on one side — 
on the other side, with a huge silver cross borne before 
him (crucifixes were not yet introduced), and beside it 
a large picture of Christ painted and gilded^ after the 
fashion of those times, on an upright board, came up 
from the shore Augustine and his companions, chanting, 
as they advanced, a solemn Litany for themselves and 

^ See Lewis, Isle of Thanet, p. 83 : " Under an oak that grew in 
the middle of the island, which all the German pagans had in the 
highest veneration." He gives no authorit}-. The oak was held 
sacred by the Germans as well as by the Britons. Probabh- the recol- 
lection of this meeting determined the forms of that which Augustine 
afterwards held with the British Christians on the confines of Wales. 
Then, as now, it was in the open air, under an oak ; then, as now, 
Augustine was seated. (Bede, ii 2, § 9.) In the same chapel of St. 
Gregory's convent at Rome, which contains the picture of the depart- 
ure of Augustine, is one — it need hardly be said, with no attempt at 
historical accuracy — of his reception by Ethelbert. 

- As indicated by the names of places. (Hasted, iv. 292.) 
3 " Formosa atque aurate." — Acta Sanctorum, p. 326. 



38 INTERVIEW OF ETHELBERT AND AUGUSTINE. [597. 

for those to whom they came. He, as we are told, was 
a man of ahiiost gigantic stature,^ head and shoulders 
taller than any one else ; with him were Lawrence, 
who afterwards succeeded him as Archbishop of Can- 
terbury, and Peter, who became first Abbot of St. 
Augustine's. They and their companions, amounting 
altogether to forty, sat down at the king's command, 
and the interview began. 

Neither, we must remember, could understand the 
other's language. Augustine could not understand a 
word of Anglo-Saxon ; and Ethelbert, we may be tol- 
erably sure, could not speak a word of Latin. But 
the priests whom Augustine had brought from France, 
as knowing both German and Latin, now stepped for- 
ward as interpreters ; and thus the dialogue which 
followed was carried on, much as all communications 
are carried on in the East, — Augustine first delivering 
his message, which the dragoman, as they would say 
in the East, explained to the king^ 

The king heard it all attentively, and then gave this 
most characteristic answer, bearing upon it a stamp of 
truth which it is impossible to doubt : " Your words 
are fair, and your promises ; but because they are 
new and doubtful, I cannot give my assent to them, 
and leave the customs which I have so long observed, 
with the whole Anglo-Saxon race. But because you 
have come hither as strangers from a long distance, and 
as I seem to myself to have seen clearly that what you 
yourselves believed to be true and good, you wish to 
impart to us, we do not wish to molest you ; nay, rather 

1 Acta Sanctorum, p. 399. 

2 Exchange English travellers for Roman missionaries, Arab sheikhs 
for Saxon chiefs, and the well-known interviews on the way to Petra 
give us some notion of this celehrated dialogue. 



597 ] INTERVIEW OF ETHELBERT AND AUGUSTINE. 39 

we are anxious to receive you hospitably, and to give 
you all that is needed for your support, nor do we hin- 
der you from joining all whom you can to the faith of 
your religion." 

Such an answer, simple as it was, really seems to 
contain the seeds of all that is excellent in the En"- 
lish character, — exactly what a king should ha\e said 
on such an occasion, — exactly what, under the influ- 
ence of Christianity, has grown up into all our best 
institutions. There is the natural dislike to change, 
which Englishmen still retain ; there is the willingness 
at the same time to listen favorably to anything which 
comes recommended by the energy and self-devotion 
of those who urge it : there is, lastly, the spirit of 
moderation and toleration, and the desire to see fair 
play, which is one of our best gifts, and which I hope 
we shall never lose. We may, indeed, well be thankful, 
not only that we had an Augustine to convert us, but 
that we had an Ethelbert for our king. 

From the Isle of Thanet, the missionaries crossed 
the broad ferry to Eichborough, — the " Burgh," or castle, 
of " Eete," or " Eetep," as it was then called, from the 
old Eoman fortress of Eutupite, of wdiich the vast ruins 
still remain. Underneath the overhanging cliff of the 
castle, so the tradition ran, the king received the mis- 
sionaries.i They then advanced to Canterbury by the 
Eoman road over St. Martin's Hill. The first object 

1 Sandwich MS. in Boys' Sandwich, p. 838. An okl hermit lived 
amongst the ruins in the time of Henry VIII., and pointed out to Le- 
laud what seems to have been a memorial of tliis in a chapel of St. 
Augustine, of which some slight remains are still to be traced in the 
northern bank of the fortress. There was also a head or bust, said to 
be of Queen Bertha, embedded in the walls, — remaining till the time 
of Elizabeth. Tlie curious crossing in the centre was then called by 
the common people, " St. Augustine's Cross." (Camden, p. 342 ) For 
this que.stion see the Note at the end of this Lecture. 



40 ARRIVAL OF AUGUSTINE AT CANTERBURY. [SOTc 

that would catch their view would be the little British 
chapel of St. Martin, — a welcome sight, as showing 
that the Christian faith was not wholly strange to this 
new land. And then, in the valley below, on the banks 
of the river, appeared the city, — the rude wooden city 
as it then was, — embosomed in thickets. As soon as 
they saw it, they formed themselves into a long proces- 
sion ; they lifted up again the tall silver cross and the 
rude painted board ; there were with them the choris- 
ters, whom Augustine had brought from Gregory's 
school on the Cailian Hill, trained in the chants which 
were called after his name ; and they sang one of 
those Litanies ^ which Gregory had introduced for 
the plague at Rome. "We beseech thee, Lord, in 
all thy mercy, that thy wrath and thine anger may 
be removed from this city and from thy holy house. 
Allelujah." ^ Doubtless, as tliey uttered that last word, 
they must have remembered that they were thus ful- 
filling to the letter the very wish that Gregory had 
expressed when he first saw the Saxon children in 
the market-place at Rome. And thus they came 
down St. Martin's Hill, and entered Canterbury. 

1 Fleury, Histoire Ecclc'siastique, book xxxv. 1. 

- Bede (ii. 1, § 87) supposes that it was to this that Gregory alludes 
ill his Commentary on Job, wheu he says, " Lo, the language of Britain, 
which once only knew a barbarous jargon, now has begun in divine 
praises to sound Allelujah." It is objected to this that the Commen- 
tary on Job was written during Gregory's mission to Constantinople, 
some years before this event, and that therefore the passage must 
relate to the victory gained by Germanus in the Welsh mountains liy 
the shout of " Hallelujah." But the Commentary was only begun at 
Constantinople. Considering the doubt whether Gregory could have 
heard of the proceedings of Germanus, it may well be a (juestion 
whether the allusion in tlie Commentary on Job was not added after 
he had heard of this fulfilment of liis wishes. At any rate, it illus- 
trates the hold which the word " Hallelujah " had on his mind in con- 
nection with the conversion of Britain. 



597.] BAPTISM OF ETHELBERT. 41 

Every one of the events which follow is connected 
with some well-known locality. The place that Ethel- 
bert gave them first was " Stable-gate," by an old 
heathen temple, where his servants worshipped, near 
the present Church of St. Alfege, as a " resting-place," 
where they " stabled " till he had made up his mind ; 
and by their good and holy lives it is said, as well as 
by the miracles they were supposed to work, he was at 
last decided to encourage them more openly, and allow 
them to worship with the queen at St. Martin's.^ 

In St. Martin's they worshipped ; and no doubt the 
mere splendor and strangeness of the Eoman ritual 
produced an instant effect on the rude barbarian mind. 
And now came the turning-point of their whole mis- 
sion, the baptism of Ethelbert. It was, unless we ex- 
cept the conversion of Clovis, the most important 
baptism that the world had seen since that of Con- 
stantine. We know the day, — it was the Feast of 
Whit-Sunday, — on the 2d of June, in the year of our 
Lord 597. Unfortunately we do not with certainty 
know the place. The only authorities of that early 
age tell us merely that he was baptized, without 
specifying any particular spot. Still, as St. Martin's 
Church is described as the scene of Augustine's min- 
istrations, and, amongst other points, of his adminis- 
tration of baptism, it is in the highest degree probable 
that the local tradition is correct. And although the 
venerable font, which is there shown as that in which 
he was baptized, is proved by its appearance to be, at 
least in its upper part, of a later date, yet it is so like 
that which appears in the representation of the event 
in the seal of St. Augustine's Abbey, and is in itself 
so remarkable, that we may perhaps fairly regard it 

1 Thorn, 1758. 



42 CHURCH OF ST. PANCRAS. [597. 

as a monument of the event, — in the same manner 
as the large porphyry basui in the Lateran Church 
at Eome commemorates the baptism of Constantine, 
though still less corresponding to the reality of that 
event than the stone font of St. Martin's to the place 
of the immersion of Ethelbert.^ 

The conversion of a king was then of more im- 
portance than it has ever been before or since. The 
baptism of any one of these barbarian chiefs almost in- 
evitably involved the baptism of the whole tribe, and 
therefore we are not to be surprised at finding that 
when this step was once achieved, all else was easy. 
Accordingly, by the end of that year, Gregory wrote to 
his brother patriarch of the distant Church of Alex- 
andria (so much interest did the event excite to the re- 
motest end of Christendom), that ten thousand Saxons 
had been baptized on Christmas Day,^ — baptized, as 
we learn from another source, in the broad waters of 
the Swale,'"^ at the mouth of the Medway. 

The next stage of the mission carries us to another 
spot. Midway between St. Martin's and the town was 
another ancient building, — also, it would appear, al- 
though this is less positively stated, once a British 
church, but now used by Ethelbert as a temple in which 

1 Neither Bede C§ 79) nor Thorn (1759) says a word of the scene of 
the baptism. ButGocelin (Acta Sanctorum, p. 383) speaks distinctly of a 
" baptistery " or " urn " as used. The fir.st mention of the font at St. 
Martin's that I find is in Stukely, p. 1 17 (in the seventeenth century). 

2 Greg. Epp., vii. 30. 

3 See Fuller's Church History, ii. §§ 7, 9, where he justly argues, 
after his quaint fashion, that the Swale mentioned by Gocelin (Acta 
Sanctorum, p. 390), Gervase (Acta Pont., p. 1551 ), and Camden (]). 136). 
cannot be that of Yorkshire. Indeed, Gregory's letter is decisive. The 
legend represents the crowd as miraculou.sly delivered from drowning, 
and the baptism as performed by two and two upon each other at the 
command, though not by the act, of Augustine. 



597.] CHURCH OF ST. PAXCEAS. 43 

to worship the gods of Saxon paganism. Like all the 
Saxon temples, we must imagine it embosomed in a 
thick grove of oak or ash. This temple, according to 
a principle which, as we shall afterwards find, was laid 
down by Gregory himself, Ethelbert did not destroy, 
but made over to Augustine for a regular place of Chris- 
tian worship. Augustine dedicated the place to Saint 
Pancras, and it became the Church of St. Pancras, of 
which the spot is still indicated by a ruined arch of 
ancient brick, and by the fragment of a wall, still show- 
ing the mark ^ where, according to the legend, the old 
demon who, according to the belief at that time, had 
hitherto reigned supreme in the heathen temple, laid 
his claws to shake down the building in which he first 
heard the celebration of Christian services, and felt that 
his rule was over. But there is a more authentic and 
instructive interest attaching to that ancient ruin, if 
you ask why it was that it received from Augustine the 
name of St. Pancras ? Two reasons are given : First, 
Saint Pancras, or Pancrasius, was a Roman boy of noble 
family, who was martyred "^ under Diocletian at the age 
of fourteen, and, being thus regarded as the patron 
saint of children, would naturally be chosen as the 
patron saint of the first-fruits of the nation which was 
converted out of regard to the three English children in 
the market-place ; and, secondly, the Monastery of St. 



1 The place now pointed out can hardly be the snme as that indi- 
cated by Thorn (1760) as " the south wall of the cliurch." But every 
student of local tradition knows how easily they are transplanted to 
suit the convenience of tlieir jierpetuation. The present mark is aj)- 
parently that mentioned by Stukely (p. 117), who gives a view of the 
church as then standing. 

2 The Roman Church of St. Pancrazio, behind the Vatican (so fa- 
mous in the siege of Rome by the French iu 1849), is on the scene of 
Pancrasius 's martyrdom. 



44 riKST CATHEDEAL OF CANTERBURY. [597. 

Andrew on the Caelian Hill, which Gregory had founded, 
and from which Augustine came, was built on the very 
property which had belonged to the family of Saint 
Pancras, and therefore the name of Saint Pancras was 
often in Gregory's mouth (one of his sermons was 
preaclied on Saint Pancras's day), and would thus nat- 
urally occur to Augustine also. That rising ground 
on which the Chapel of St. Pancras stands, with St. 
]\Iartin's Hill behind, was to him a Cielian ]\Iount in 
England ; and this, of itself, would suggest to him the 
wisli, as we shall presently see, to found his first 
monastery as nearly as possible with the same asso- 
ciations as that which he had left behind. 

But Ethelbert was not satisfied with establishing 
those places of worship outside the city. Augustine 
was now formally consecrated as the first Archbishop 
of Canterbury, and Ethelbert determined to give him a 
dwelling-place and a house of prayer within the city 
also. Buildings of this kind were rare in Canterbury, 
and so the king retired to Pieculver, — built there a 
new palace out of the ruins of the old Eoman fortress, 
and gave up his own palace and an old British or 
Eoman church in its neighborhood, to be the seat of 
the new archbishop and the foundation of the new 
cathedrak If the baptism of Ethelbert may in some 
measure be compared to the baptism of Constantine, so 
this may be compared to that hardly less celebrated act 
of the same emperor (made up of some truth and more 
fable), — his donation of the " States of the Church," 
or at least of the Lateran Palace, to Pope Sylvester ; 
his own retirement to Constantinople in consequence 
of this resignation. It is possible that Ethelbert may 
have been in some measure influenced in his step by 
what he may have heard of this story. His wooden 



The Cathedral, Southwest Corner, 



597.] FlllST CATHEDRAL OF CANTERBURY. 45 

palace was to him what the Lateran was to Constantine ; 
Augustine was his Sylvester ; Eeculver was his Byzan- 
tium. At any rate, this grant of house and land to 
Augustine was a step of immense importance not only 
in English but European history, because it was the 
tirst instance in England, or in any of the countries oc- 
cupied by the barbarian tribes, of an endowment by the 
State. As St. Martin's and St. Pancras's witnessed the 
first beginning of English Christianity, so Canterbury 
Cathedral is the earliest monument of an English Church 
Establishment, — of the English constitution of the 
union of Church and State.^ Of the actual building of 
this first cathedral, nothing now remains ; yet there is 
much, even now, to remind us of it. Eirst, there is the 
venerable chair, in which, for so many generations, the 
primates of England have been enthroned, and which, 
though probably of a later date, may yet rightly be 
called " Saint Augustine's Chair ; " ^ for, though not the 
very one in which he sat, it no doubt represents the 
ancient episcopal throne, in which, after the fashion of 
the bishops of that time, he sat behind the altar (for 
that was its proper place, and there, as is well known, 
it once stood), with all his clergy round him, as may 
still be seen in several ancient churches abroad. Next, 
there is the name of the cathedral. It was then, as it 
is still, properly called " Christ Church," or the " Church 
of our Saviour." We can hardly doubt that this is a 

1 That the parallel of Coustantioe was present to the minds of those 
concerned is evident, not merely from the express comparison bv Go- 
celiu (Acta Sanctorum, p. 383), of Ethelhert to Constantine, and Au- 
gustine to Sylvester, but from the ap])ellation of " Hellena" given by 
Gregory to Bertha, or (as he calls her) Edilburga. (Epp., ix. 60.) 

2 The arguments against the antiquity of tlie chair are, (1 ) That it 
is of Purbeck marl)le; (2) That the old throne was of one ])iece uf 
stone, the present is of three. 



46 MONASTERY AND LIBRARY OF ST. AUGUSTINE. [597. 

direct memorial of the first lauding of Augustine, when 
he first announced to the pagan Saxons the faith and 
name of Christ, and spread out before their eyes, on the 
shore of Ebbe's Fleet, the rude painting on the large 
board, which, we are emphatically told, represented to 
them " Christ our Saviour." And, thirdly, there is the 
curious fact, that the old church, whether as found, or 
as restored by Augustine, was in many of its features 
an exact likeness of the old St. Peter's at Eome, — 
doubtless from his recollection of that ancient edifice in 
what may be called his own cathedral city in Italy. 
In it, as in St. Peter's,^ the altar was originally at the 
west end. Like St. Peter's it contained a crypt made 
in imitation of the ancient catacombs, in which the 
bones of the apostles were originally found ; and this 
was the first beginning of the crypt Avhich still exists, 
and which is so remarkable a part of the present cathe- 
dral. Lastly, then, as now, the chief entrance into the 
cathedral was through the south door,'-^ which is a prac- 
tice derived, not from the Eoman, but from the British 
times, and therefore from the ruined British church 
wdiich Augustine first received from Ethelbert. It is 
so still in the remains of the old British churches which 
are preserved in Cornwall and Scotland ; and I mention 
it here because it is perhaps the only point in the whole 
cathedral which reminds us of that earlier British Chris- 
tianity, which had almost died away before Augustine 
came. 

Finally, in the neighborhood of the Church of St. 
Pancras, where he had first begun to perform Christian 
service, Ethelbert granted to Augustine the ground on 
uiiich was to be built the monastery that afterwards 

1 Willi.s"s Canterbury Cathedral, pp 20-32. 
- Ibid., p. 11. 



597.] MONASTERY AND LIBRARY OF ST. AUGUSTINE. 47 

grew up into the great abbey called by his name. It 
was, in the first instance, called the Abbey of St. Peter 
and St. Paul, after the two apostles of the city of Pome, 
from which Augustine and his companions had come ; 
and though in after times it was chiefly known by the 
name of its founder Augustine, yet its earlier appella- 
tion was evidently intended to carry back the thoughts 
of those who first settled within its walls far over the 
sea, to the great churches which stood by the banks 
of the Tiber, over the graves of the two apostles. This 
monastery was designed chiefly for two purposes. One 
object was, that the new clergy of the Christian mission 
might be devoted to study and learning. And it may 
be interesting to remember here, that of this original 
intention of the monastery, two relics possibly exist, 
although not at Canterbury. In the library of Corpus 
Chri.sti Collecre at Cambridfie, and in the Bodleian Li- 
brary at Oxford, two ancient manuscript Gospels still ex- 
ist, which have at least a fair claim to be considered the 
very books which Gregory sent to Augustine as marks 
of his good wishes to the rising monastery, when 
Lawrence and Peter returned from Britain to Eome, to 
tell him the success of their mission, and from him 
brought back these presents. They are, if so, the most 
ancient books that ever were read in England ; as the 
Church of St. Martin is the mother-church, and the 
Cathedral of Canterbury the mother-cathedral of Eng- 
land, so these books are, if I may so call them, the 
mother-books of England, — the first beginning of Eng- 
lish literature, of English learning, of English education. 
And St. Augustine's Abbey was thus the mother-school, 
the mother-university, of England, the seat of letters 
and study at a time when Cambridge was a desolate 
fen, and Oxford a tangled forest in a wide waste of 



48 BURIAL-GROUXD OF ST. AUGUSTINE'S ABBEY. [597. 

waters.^ They remind us that English power and Eng- 
lish religion have, as from the very first, so ever since, 
gone along with knowledge, with learning, and especially 
with that knowledge and that learning which those two 
old manuscripts give — the knowledge and learning of 
the Gospel. 

This was one intention of St. Augustine's IMonastery. 
The other is remarkable, as explaining the situation of 
the Abbey. It might be asked why so important an 
edifice, constructed for study and security, should have 
been built outside the city walls? One reason, as I 
have said, may have been to fix it as near as possible to 
the old Church of St. Pancras. But there was another 
and more instructive cause : Augustine desired to have 
in this land of strangers a spot of consecrated ground 
where his bones should repose after death. But in the 
same w^ay as the Abbey Church of Glastonbury in like 
manner almost adjoins to the Chapel of St. Joseph of 
Arimathea, such a place, according to the usages which 
he brought with him from Eome, he could not have 
within the walls of Canterbury. In all ancient coun- 
tries the great cemeteries were always outside the town, 
along the sides of the great highways by which it was 
approached. In Jewish as well as in Ivoman history, 
only persons of the very highest importance were al- 
lowed what we now call intra-mural interment. So it 
was here. Augustine the Roman fixed his burial-place 

1 A manuscript history of the foundation of St. Augustine's Abbey 
(in the library of Trinity Hall, Cambri(i<;e, to wliich it was given by 
one into whose hands it fell at the time of the Dissolution) contains an 
account of eight manuscripts, said to be those sent over by Gregory. 
Of these all have long since disappeared, with three exceptions, — a 
Bible which, however, has never been heard of since 1604, and the two 
manuscript Gospels still shown at Corpus, Cambridge, and in the 
Bodleian at Oxford. The arguments for their genuineness are stated 
bv Wanlev, in Hickes's Thesaurus (ii. 172, 173). 



597.] FOUNDATION OF THE SEE OF ROCHESTER. 49 

by the side of the great Eoman road which then ran 
from Kichborough to Canterbury over St. Martin's Hill, 
and entering the town by the gateway which still 
marks the course of the old road.^ The cemetery of St. 
Augustine was an English Appian Way, as the Church 
of St. Pancras was an English Ctelian Hill ; and this is 
the reason why St. Augustine's Abbey, instead of the 
Cathedral, has enjoyed the honor of burying the last 
remains of the first primate of the English Church and 
of the first king of Christian England. 

For now we have arrived at the end of their career. 
Nothing of importance is known of Augustine in con- 
nection with Canterbury, beyond what has been said 
above. We know that he penetrated as far west as the 
banks of the Severn, on his important mission to the 
Welsh Christians, and it would also seem that he must ^ 
have gone into Dorsetshire ; but these would lead us 
into regions and topics remote from our present subject. 

His last act at Canterbury, of which we can speak 
with certainty, was his consecration of two monks who 
had been sent out after him by Gregory to two new 
sees, — two new steps farther into the country, still 
under the shelter of Ethelbert. Justus became Bishop 
of Rochester, and Mellitus Bishop of London. And 
still the same association of names which we have seen 
at Canterbury was continued. The memory of " St. 
Andrew's Convent " on the Caelian Hill was perpetuated 

1 Bede, i. 33, § 79 ; Gostling's Walk, p. 44. " A common footway- 
lay through it, even till memory." 

2 See the account of his conference with the Welsh, in Bede ; the 
stories of his adventures in Dorsetshire, in the " Acta Sanctorum," 
p. 391. The story of his journey into Yorkshire has probahly arisen 
from the mistake, before noticed, respecting the Swale. The wliole 
question of his miracles, and of tlie legendary portions of his life, is too 
long to be discussed in this place. 

4 



50 DEATH OF AUGUSTINE. [605. 

in the Cathedral Church of St. Andrew on the oanks of 
the i\Iedvvay. The names of Samt Peter and Saint Paul, 
whicli had been combined in the abbey at Canterbury, 
were preserved apart in St. Peter's at Westminster and 
St. Paul's in London, which thus represent the great 
Eoman Basilicas, on the banks of the Thames. How 
like the instinct with which the colonists of the New 
World reproduced the nomenclature of Christian and 
civilized Europe, was this practice of recalling in re- 
mote and barbarous Britain the familiar scenes of Chris- 
tian and civilized Italy ! 

It was believed that Augustine expired on the 26th 
of May, 605,^ his patron and benefactor, Gregory the 
Great, having died on the 12th of March of the previous 
year, and he was interred,- according to the custom of 
which I have spoken, by the roadside in the ground now 
occupied by the Kent and Canterbury Hospital. The 
abbey which he had founded was not yet finished, but 
he had just lived to see its foundation.^ Ethelbert came 
from Eeculver to Canterbury, a few months before Au- 
gustine's death, to witness the ceremony ; and the monks 
were settled there under Peter, the first companion of 
Augustine, as their head. Peter did not long survive 
his master. He was lost, it is said, in a storm off the 
coast of France, two years afterwards, and his remains 
were interred in the Church of St. Mary at Boulogne.* 
Bertha and her chaplain also died about the same time, 
and were buried beside Augustine. There now remained 
of those who had first met in the Isle of Thanet ten 
years before, only Ethelbert himself, and Lawrence, who 

1 Thorn (1765) gives the year; Bede (ii. 3, § 96), the day. 

2 Thorn, 1767. 

^ Thorn, 1761. Christmas, a. d. 605, was, according to onr reckon- 
ing, on Christmas, 604. 
* Thorn, 1766. 



613.] BURIAL-PLACE OF AUGUSTINE. 51 

had been consecrated Archbishop by Augustine himself 
before his death, an unusual and almost unprecedented 
step,^ but one which it was thought the unsettled state 
of the newly converted country demanded. Once more 
Ethelbert and Lawrence met, in the year 613, eight 
years after Augustine's death, for the consecration of 
the Abbey Church, on the site of which there rose in 
after times the noble structure whose ruins still remain, 
preserving in the fragments of its huge western tower, 
even to our own time, the name of Ethelbert. Then the 
bones ^ of Augustine were removed from their resting- 
place by the Roman road, to be deposited in the north 
transept of the church, where they remained till in the 
twelfth century they wore moved again, and placed 
under the high altar at the east end. Then also the 
remains of Bertha and of Luidhard were brought within 
the same church, and laid in the transept or apse dedi- 
cated to Samt Martin ; ^ thus still keeping up the rec- 
ollection of their original connection with the old 
French samt, and the httle chapel where they had 
so often worshipped on the hill above, — Luidhard * 

1 Thorn, 1765; Bede, ii. 4, § 97. 

2 Thorn, 1767. The statement in Butler's " Lives of the Saints" 
(May 26) is a series of mistakes. 

3 The mention of this apse, or " portions," of Saint Martin has led 
to the mistake which from Fuller's time (ii. 7, § 32) has fixed the 
grave of Bertha in the Church of St. Martin's on the hill. But the 
elegant Latin inscription which the excellent rector of St. Martin's 
has caused to be placed over the rude stone tomb which popularly 
bears her name in his beautiful church, is so cautiously worded that 
even if she were buried much farther off than she is, the claim which 
is there set up would hardly be contradicted. 

* Luidhard is so mere a shadow, that it is hardly worth while col- 
lecting what is known or said of him. His name is variou.sly spelled 
Lethard, Ledvard, and Luidhard. His French bishopric is variously 
represented to be Soissons or Senlis. His tomb in the abbey was long 
known, and his relics were carried round Canterbury in a gold chest 
on the Rogation Days. (Acta Sanctorum, Feb. 24, pp. 468, 470.) 



52 DEATH OF ETHELBERT. [616. 

on the north, and Bertha on the south side of the 
altar. 

Three years longer Ethelbert reigned. He lived, as 
has been already said, no longer at Canterbury, but in 
the new palace which he had built for himself withm 
the strong Komau fortress of Keculver, at the north- 
western end of the estuary of the Isle of Thanet, though 
in a different manner. The whole aspect of the place 
is even more altered than that of its corresponding 
fortress of Richborough, at the other extremity. The 
sea, which was then a mile or more from Reculver, has 
now advanced up to the very edge of the cliff on which 
it stands, and swept the northern wall of the massive 
fortress into the waves ; but the three other sides, over- 
grown with ivy and elder bushes, still remain, with the 
strong masonry which Ethelbert must have seen and 
handled ; and within the enclosure stand the venerable 
ruins of the church, with its two towers, which after- 
wards rose on the site of Ethelbert's palace. 

This wild spot is the scene which most closely con- 
nects itself with the remembrance of that good Saxon 
king, and it long disputed with St. Augustine's Abbey 
the honor of his burial-place. Even down to the time 
of King James I., a monument was to be seen in the 
south transept of the church of Reculver, professing to 
cover his remains ; ^ and down to our own time, I am 
told, a board was affixed to the wall with the inscription 
" Here lies Ethelbert, Kentish king whilonL" This, how- 
ever, may have been Ethelbert II. ; and all authority leans 
to the story that, after a long reign of forty -eight years 
(dying on the 24th of February, 616), he was laid side 
by side with his first wife Bertha,^ on the south side of 

1 Weever, Funeral Monuments, p. 260. 

2 That he had a second wife appears from the allusion to her in 



616.] PRIMACY OF CANTERBURY. 53 

St. Martin's altar in the Church of St. Augustine,^ and 
there, somewhere in the field around the ruins of the 
abbey, his bones, with those of Bertha and Augustine,^ 
probably still repose and may possibly be discovered. 

These are all the direct traces which Augustine and 
Ethelbert have left amongst us. Viewed in this light 
they will become so many finger-posts, pointing your 
thoughts along various roads, to times and countries 
far away, — always useful and pleasant in this busy 
world in which w^e live. But in that busy world itself 
they have left traces also, which we shall do well 
briefly to consider before we bid farewell to that ancient 
Koman prelate and that ancient Saxon chief. I do not 
now speak of the one great change of our conversion to 
Christianity, which is too extensive and too serious a 

the story of his son Eadbald (Bede, ii. § 102), but her name is never 
mentioned. 

1 Thorn, 1767 ; Bede, ii. §§ 100, 101. 

'^ In the " Acta Sanctorum " for Feb. 24 (p. 478), a strange ghost- 
story is told of Ethelbert's tomb, not without interest from its connec- 
tion with the previous history. The priest who had the charge of the 
tomb had neglected it. One night, as he was in the chapel, there suddenly 
issued from the tomb, in a blaze of light which filled the whole apse, 
the figure of a boy, with a torch in his hand : long golden hair flowed 
round his shoulders ; his face was as white as snow ; his eyes shone 
like stars. He rebuked the priest and retired into his tomb. Is it 
possible that the story of this apparition was connected ■with the tradi- 
tional description of the three children at Rome ? 

There was a statue of Ethelbert in the south chapel or apse of St. 
Pancras (Thorn, 1677), long since destroyed. But in the screen of 
the cathedral choir, of the fifteenth century, he may still be seen as the 
founder of the cathedral, with the model of the church in his hand. He 
was canonized ; but probably as a saint he was less popularly known 
than Saint Ethelbert of Hereford, with whom he is sometimes confused. 

His epitaph was a curious instance of rh\Tning Latinity : — 

" Rex Ethelbertns hie clauditur in polyandro, 
Faua pians, Christo meat absque meandro." 

Speed, 215. 



54 PRIMACY OF CANTERBURY. [616. 

subject to be treated of on the present occasion. But 
the particular manner in which Christianity was thus 
planted is in so many ways best understood by gomg 
back to that time, that I shall not scruple to call your 
attention to it. 

First, the arrival of Augustine explains to us at once 
why the primate of this great Church, the first subject 
of this great empire, should be Archbishop not of 
London, but of Canterbury. It had been Gregory's 
intention to fix the primacy in London and York 
alternately; but the local feelings which grew out of 
Augustine's landing in Kent were too strong for him, 
and they have prevailed to this day.^ Humble as Can- 
terbury may now be, — " Kent itself but a corner of 
England, and Canterbury seated in a corner of that 
comer," ^ — yet so long as an Archbishop of Canterbury 
exists, so long as the Church of England exists, Can- 
terbury can never forget that it had the glory of being 
the cradle of English Christianity. And that glory it 
had in consequence of a few simple causes, far back 
in the mist of ages, — the shore between the cliffs 
of Ramsgate and of the South Foreland, which made 
the shores of Kent the most convenient landmg-place 
for the Italian missionaries ; the marriage of the wild 
Saxon king of Kent with a Christian princess ; and 
the good English common sense of Ethelbert when 
the happy occasion arrived. 

1 Greg. Epp., xii. 15. Gervase (Acta Pont., pp. 1131, 1132), thinking 
that by this letter the Pope established three primacies, — one at Lon- 
don, one at Canterbury, and one at York, — needlessly perplexes liim- 
self to reconcile such a distribution with the geography of Britain, 
and arrives at the conclusion that the Pope " licet Sancti Spiritus sa- 
crarium esset," yet had fallen into the error of supposing each of the 
cities to be equidistant from the other. 

- Fuller, Church History, book ii. § viii. 4, in speaking of the tem- 
j)orary transference of the primacy to Lichfield. 



616.] EXTENT OF ENGLISH DIOCESES. 55 

Secondly, we may see, in the present constitution of 
Church and State in England, what are far more truly 
the footmarks of Gregory and Augustine than that 
fictitious footmark which he was said to have left at 
Ebbe's Fleet. 

There are letters from Gregory to Augustine, which 
give him excellent advice for his missionary course, — 
advice which all missionaries would do well to con- 
sider, and of which the effects are to this day visible 
amongst us. Let me mention two or three of these 
points. The first, perhaps, is more curious than gen- 
erally interesting. Any of you who have ever read 
or seen the state of foreign churches and countries 
may have been struck by one great difference, which I 
believe distinguishes England from all other churches 
in the world ; and that is, the great size of its dioceses. 
In foreign countries you will generally find a bishop's 
see in every large town; so that he is, in fact, more 
like a clergyman of a large parish than what we call 
the bishop of a diocese. It is a very important char- 
acteristic of the English Church that the opposite 
should be the case with us. In some respects it has 
been a great disadvantage ; in other respects, I believe, 
a great advantage. The formation of the English sees 
was very gradual, and the completion of the number of 
twenty-four did not take place till the reign of Henry 
VIII. But it is curious that this should have been 
precisely the same number fixed in Gregory's instruc- 
tions to Augustine ; and, at any rate, the great size of 
the dioceses was in conformity with his suggestions. 
Britain, as I have said several times, was to him 
almost an unknown island. Probably he thought 
it might be about the size of Sicily or Sardinia, the 
only large islands he had ever seen, and that twenty- 



56 TOLERATION OF CHRISTIAN DIVERSITIES. [616. 

four bishoprics would be sufficient. At any rate, so 
he divided, and so, with the variation of giving only 
four, instead of twelve, to the province of York, it was, 
consciously or unconsciously, followed out in after 
times. The kings of the various kingdoms seem to 
have encouraged the practice, each making the bish- 
opric co-extensive with his kingdom ; ^ so that the 
bishop of the diocese was also chief pastor of the tribe, 
succeeding in all probability to the post which the 
chaplain or high-priest of the king had held in the days 
of paganism. And it may be remarked that, whether 
from an imitation of England or from a similarity of 
circumstances, the sees of Germany ^ (in this respect 
an exception to the usual practice of continental Eu- 
rope) and of Scotland are of great extent. 

But, further, Gregory gave directions as to the two 
points which probably most perplex missionaries, and 
which at once beset Augustine. The first concerned 
his dealings with other Christian communities. Au- 
gustine had passed through France, and saw there 
customs very different from what he had seen in Eome ; 
and he was now come to Britain, where there were 
still remnants of the old British churches, with cus- 
toms very different from what he had seen either in 
France or Eome. What was he to do ? The answer 
of Gregory was, that whatever custom he found really 
good and pleasing to God, whether in the Church of 
Italy or of France, or any other, he was to adopt it, 
and use it in his new Church of England. " Things," 
he says, " are not to be loved for the sake of places, but 
places for the sake of things." ^ 

1 See Kemble's Saxous, book ii. chap. viii. 

2 Germany was, it should bo remembered, converted by Englishmen. 
8 Bede, 1.27, § 60. 



616.] TOLERATION OF HEATHEN CUSTOMS. 57 

It was indeed a truly wise and liberal maxim, — one 
which would have healed many feuds, one which per- 
haps Augustine himself might have followed more than 
he did. It would be too much to say that the effect 
of this advice has reached to our own time; but it 
often happens that the first turn given to the spirit 
of an institution lasts long after its first founder has 
passed away, and in channels quite different from those 
which he contemplated ; and when we think what the 
Church of England is now, I confess there is a satis- 
faction in thinking that at least in this respect it has 
in some measure fulfilled the wishes of Gregory the 
Great. There is no church in the world which has 
combined such opposite and various advantages from 
other churches more exclusive than itself, — none in 
which various characters and customs from the oppo- 
site parts of the Christian world could have been able 
to find such shelter and refuge. 

Another point was how to deal with the pagan cus- 
toms and ceremonies which already existed in the 
Anglo-Saxon kingdom. Were they to be entirely de- 
stroyed, or were they to be tolerated so far as was not 
absolutely incompatible with the Christian religion ? 
And here again Gregory gave to Augustine the advice 
which, certainly as far as we could judge. Saint Paul 
would have given, and which in spirit at least is an 
example always. " He had thought much on the sub- 
ject," he says, and he came to the conclusion that hea- 
then temples were cot to be destroyed, but turned 
whenever possible into Christian churches ; ^ that the 

1 To Ethelbert he had expressed himself, apparently in an earlier 
letter, more strongly apainst the temples. (Bede, i. .32, § 76.) "Was 
it settled policy," asks Dean Milman, " or mature reflection, which led 
the Pope to devolve the more o(li(^us dnty of the total abolition of idola- 
try on the temporal power, the barbarian king ; while it permitted the 



5S TOLERATION OF HEATHEN CUSTOMS. [616. 

droves of oxen which used to be killed in sacrifice 
were still to be killed for feasts for the poor ; and that 
the huts which they used to make of boughs of trees 
round the temples were still to be used for amuse- 
ments on Christian festivals. And he gives as the 
reason for this, that " for hard and rough minds it is 
impossible to cut away abruptly all their old customs, 
because he who wishes to reach the highest place must 
ascend by steps and not by jumps." ^ 

How this was followed out in England, is evident. 
In Canterbury we have already seen how the old hea- 
then temple of Ethelbert was turned into the Church 
of St. Pancras. In the same manner the sites granted 
by Ethelbert for St. Paul's in London, and St. Peter's 
in Westminster, were both originally places of heathen 
worship. This appropriation of heathen buildings is 
the more remarkable, inasmuch as it had hitherto been 
very unusual in Western Christendom. In Egypt, in- 
deed, the temples were usually converted into Christian 
churches, and the intermixture of Coptic saints with 
Egyptian gods is one of the strangest sights that the 
traveller sees in the monuments of that strange land. 
In Greece, also, the Parthenon and the temple of The- 
seus are well-known instances. But in Eome it was 
very rare. The Pantheon, now dedicated to All Saints, 
is almost the only example ; and this dedication itself 
took place four years after Gregory's death, and prob- 
ably in consequence of his known views. The frag- 
ment of the Church of St. Pancras — the nucleus, as 
we have seen, of St. Augustine's Abbey — thus be- 

milder or more winning course to the clergy, the protection of the hal- 
lowed places and images of the heathen from insult by consecrating 
them to holier uses ? " — History of Latin Christianity, ii. 59. 
1 Bede, i. 30, § 74. 



616.] GREAT RESULTS FROM SMALL BEGINNINGS. 59 

comes a witness to an important principle ; and the 
legend of the Devil's claw reads us the true lesson, 
that the evil spirit can be cast out of institutions 
without destroying them. Gregory's advice is, indeed, 
but the counterpart of John Wesley's celebrated say- 
ing about church music, that "it was a great pity the 
Devil should have all the best tunes to himself ; ' and 
the principle which it involved, coming from one in 
his commanding position, probably struck root far 
and wide, not only in England, but throughout West- 
ern Christendom. One familiar instance is to be found 
in the toleration of the heathen names of the days of 
the weeks. Every one of these is called, as we all 
know, after the name of some Saxon god or goddess, 
whom Ethelbert worshipped in the days of his pagan- 
ism. Through all the changes of Saxou and Norman, 
Roman Catholic and Protestant, these names have 
survived, but, most stril^ing of all, through the great 
change from heathenism to Christianity.-' They have 
survived, and rightly, because there is no harm in their 
intention ; and if there is no harm, it is a clear gain to 
keep up old names and customs, when their evil inten- 
tion is passed away. They, like the ruin of St. Pancras, 
are standing witnesses of Gregory's wisdom and mod- 
eration, — standing examples to us that Christianity 
does not require us to trample on the customs even 
of a heathen world, if we can divest them of their 
mischief. 

Lastly, the mission of Augustine is one of the most 
striking instances in all history of the vast results 
which may flow from a very small beginning, — of tlie 

1 See a full and most interesting discussion of the whole subject of 
the heathen names of the week days, in Grimm's Deutsche Mythologie, 
i. 111-128. 



60 GREAT RESULTS FROM SMALL BEGINNINGS. [616. 

immense effects produced by a single thought in the 
heart of a single man, carried out consistently, delib- 
erately, and fearlessly. Nothing in itself could seem 
more trivial than the meeting of Gregory with the 
three Yorkshire slaves in the market-place at Home; 
yet this roused a feeling in his mind which he never 
lost ; and through all the obstacles which were thrown 
first in his own way, and then in the way of Augus- 
tine, his highest desire concerning it was more than 
realized. And this was even the more remarkable 
when we remember who and what his instruments 
were. You may have observed that I have said little 
of Augustine himself, and that for two reasons : first, 
because so little is known of him ; secondly, because 
I must confess that what little is told of him leaves 
an unfavorable impression behind. We cannot doubt 
that he was an active, self-denying man, — his coming 
here through so many dangers of sea and land proves 
it, — and it would be ungrateful and ungenerous not to 
acknowledge how much we owe to him. But still al- 
most every personal trait which is recorded of him 
shows us that he was not a man of any great elevation 
of character, — that he was often thinking of himself, 
or of his order, when we should have wished him to be 
thinking of the great cause he had in hand. We see 
this in his drawing back from his journey in France ; 
we see it in the additional power which he claimed 
from Gregory over his own companions ; we see it in 
the warnings sent to him by Gregory, that he was not 
to be puffed up by the wonders he had wrought in 
Britain ; we see it in the haughty severity with which 
he treated the remnant of British Christians in Wales, 
not rising when they approached, and uttering that 
malediction against them which sanctioned, if it did 



616.] GREAT RESULTS FROM SMALL BEGINNINGS. 61 

not instigate, their massacre by the Saxons ; we see it 
in the legends which grew up after his death, telling 
us how, because the people of Stroud insulted him by- 
fastening a fish-tail to his back,^ he cursed them, and 
brought down on the whole population the curse of 
being born with tails. 

I mention all this, not to disparage our great bene- 
factor and first archbishop, but partly because we 
ought to have our eyes open to the truth even about 
our best friends, partly to show what I have said be- 
fore, from what small beginnings and through what 
weak instruments Gregory accx)mplished his mighty 
work. It would have been a mighty work, even if it 
had been no more than Gregory and Augustine them- 
selves imagined. They thought, no doubt, of the 
Anglo-Saxon conversion, as we might think of the 
conversion of barbarous tribes in India or Africa, — 
numerous and powerful themselves, but with no great 
future results. How far beyond their widest vision 
that conversion has reached, may best be seen at 
Canterbury. 

Let any one sit on the hill of the little Church of St. 
Martin, and look on the view which is there spread be- 
fore his eyes. Immediately below are the towers of 
the great Abbey of St. Augustine, where Christian 
learning and civilization first struck root in the Anglo- 
Saxon race ; ^ and within which now, after a lapse of 

' Gocelin notices the offence, without expressly stating the punish- 
ment (c.41), and places it in Dorsetshire. The story is given in 
Harris's Kent, p. 30.3 ; in Fuller's Church History, ii. 7, § 22 ; and in 
Ray's Proverbs (p. 233), who mentions it especially as a Kentish 
story, and as one that was very generally believed in his time on tlie 
Continent. There is a long and amusing discussion on the subject in 
Lambard's Kent, p. 400. 

2 I have forborne to dwell on any traces of Augustine's mission be- 
sides those which were left at the time. Otherwise the list would be 



62 GREAT RESULTS FROM SMALL BEGINNINGS. [616. 

many centuries, a new institution has arisen, intended 
to carry far and wide to countries of which Gregory 
and Augustine never heard, tlie blessings which they 
gave to us. Carry your view on, — and there rises 
high above all the magnificent pile of our cathedral, 
equal in splendor and state to any, the noblest temple 
or church that Augustine could have seen in ancient 
Rome, rising on the very ground whicli derives its con- 
secration from him. And still more than the grandeur 
of the outward buildings that rose from the little 
church of Augustine and the little palace of Ethelbert, 
have been the mstitutions of all kinds, of which these 
were the earliest cradle. From Canterbury, the first 
English Christian city ; from Kent, the first English 
Christian kingdom, — has, by degrees, arisen the whole 
constitution of Church and State in England which 
now binds together the whole British Empire. And 
from the Christianity here established in England has 
flowed by direct consequence, first, the Christianity 
of Germany ; then, after a long interval, of North 
America ; and lastly, we may trust in time, of all India 
and all Australasia. The view from St. Martin's 
Church is indeed one of the most inspiriting that can 
be found in the world ; there is none to which I would 
more willingly take any one who doubted whether a 
small beginning could lead to a great and lasting good, 
— none which carries us more vividly back into the 
past or more hopefully forward to the future. 

much enlarged by the revival of the ancient associations, visible in 
St. Augustine's College, in St. Gregory's Church and burial-grouml, 
and in the restored Church of St. Martin ; where the windows, although 
of modern date, are interesting memorials of the past, — especially 
that which represents the well-known scene of Saint ]Martin dividing 
the cloak. 



NOTE. 63 



N O T E. 

TuE statements respecting the spot of Augustine's landing 
are so various that it may be worth while to give briefly the 
different claimants, in order to simplify the statement in pages 
82-39. 

1. Ebbe's Fleet. For this the main reasons are : (1) The fact 
that it was the usual landing-place in ancient Thanet, as is shown 
by the tradition that Hengist, Saint Mildred, and the Danes came 
there. (Lewis, p. 83; Hasted, iv, 289.) (2) The fact that 
Bede's whole narrative emphatically lands Augustine in Thanet, 
and not on the mainland. (3) The present situation with the 
local tradition, as described in page 33. 

2. The spot called the Boarded, Groin (Lewis, p. 83), also 
marked in the Ordnance Survey as the landing-place of the 
Saxons. But this must then have been covered by the sea. 

3. Stonar, near Sandwich. (Sandwich MS., in Boys' Sand- 
wich, p. 836.) But this, even if not covered by the sea, must have 
been a mere island. (Hasted, iv. 585.) 

4. Richborough. (Ibid., p. 838.) But this was not in the isle 
of Thanet; and the story is probably founded partly on Thorn's 
narrative (1758), which, by speaking of " Retesburgh, in insula 
Thaneti" shows that he means the whole port, and partly on its 
having been actually the scene of the final debarkation on the 
mainland, as described in page 39. 



64 



ISLE OF THANET. 



MAP OF THE ISLE OF THANET AT THE TIME OF THE 
LANDING OF SAINT AUGUSTINE. 




Present line of coast — 
Present towns, as Deal. 
Ancient line of coast . . 



Ancient towns, as Reculver. 

1, 2, 3, 4, the alleged landing-places. 



For the best acconnt of the Roman Canterbury, see Mr. Faussett's 
learned Essay read before the Archa;ologicaI Institute, July 1, 1875. 



THE MURDER OF BECKET. 

REPRINTED, WITH ADDITIONS, 
FROM THE "QUARTERLY REVIEW," SEPTEMBER, 1853. 



5/. Augustine's Gateway. 



THE MURDER OF BECKET. 



EVEEY one is familiar with the reversal of popular 
judgments respecting individuals or events of our 
own time. It would be an easy though perhaps an invidi- 
ous task, to point out the changes from obloquy to ap- 
plause, and from applause to obloquy, which the present 
generation has witnessed ; and it would be instructive 
to examine in each case how far these changes have 
been justified by the facts. What thoughtful observers 
may thus notice in the passing opinions of the day, it 
is the privilege of history to track through the course 
of centuries. Of such vicissitudes in the judgment of 
successive ages, one of the most striking is to be found 
in the conflicting feelings with which different epochs 
have regarded the contest of Becket with Henry 11. 
During its continuance the public opinion of England 
and of Europe was, if not unfavorable to the Arch- 
bishop, at least strongly divided. After its tragical 
close, the change from indifference or hostility to un- 
bounded veneration was instantaneous. In certain 
circles his saintship, and even his salvation,^ was ques- 
tioned ; but these were exceptions to the general enthu- 
siasm. This veneration, after a duration of more than 
three centuries, was superseded, at least in England, by 
1 U Robertson, p. 312. 



68 VARIETY OF JUDGMENTS ON THE EVENT. 

a contempt as general and profound as had been the 
previous admiration. And now, after three centuries 
more, the revohition of the wheel of fortune has again 
brought up, both at home and abroad, worshippers of 
the memory of Saint Thomas of Canterbury, who rival 
the most undoubting devotee that ever knelt at his 
shrine in the reign of the Plantagenet kings. Indica- 
tions ^ are not wanting that the pendulum which has 
been so violently swung to and fro is at last about to 
settle into its proper place ; and we may trust that on 
this, as on many other controverted historical points, a 
judgment will be pronounced in our own times, which, 
if not irreversible, is less likely to be reversed than 
those which have gone before. But it may contribute 
to the decision upon the merits of the general question, 
if a complete picture is presented of the passage of his 
career which has left by far the most indelible impres- 
sion, — its terrible close. And even though the famous 
catastrophe had not turned the course of events for 
generations to come, and exercised an influence which 
is not yet fully exhausted, it would still deserve to be 
minutely described, from its intimate connection with 

1 The Rev. J. C. Robertson, since Canon of Canterbury, was the 
first author who, in two articles in the " English Review" of 1846, 
took a detailed and impartial survey of the whole struggle. To these 
articles I have to acknowledge a special obligation, as having first 
introduced me to the copious materials from which this account is de- 
rived. This summary has since been expanded into a full biography. 
A shorter view of the struggle may be seen in the narrative given by 
the Dean of St. Paul's, in the third volume of the " History of Latiu 
Christianity," and in the " History of England," by Dr. Pauli, to whose 
kindness I have been also much indebted for some of the sources of 
the " martyrdom." An interesting account of Becket's death is affixed 
to the collection of his letters published in the *' Remains of the Late 
]Mr. Froude." But that account, itself pervaded by a one-sided view, 
is almost exclusively drawn from a single source, the narrative of 
Fitzstephen. 



SOURCES OF INFORMATION. 09 

the stateliest of English cathedrals and with the first 
great poem of the English language. 

The labor of Dr. Giles has collected no less than 
nineteen biographies, or fragments of biographies, all of 
which appear to have been written within fifty years of 
the murder, and some of which are confined to that sin- 
gle subject.^ To these we must add the French biogra- 
phy in verse ^ by Guerns, or Garnier, of Pont S. j\Iaxence, 
which was composed only five years after the event, — 
the more interesting from being the sole record which 
gives the words of the actors in the language in which 
they spoke ; and although somewhat later, that by 
Kobert of Gloucester in the thirteenth,'^ and by Grandi- 
son, Bishop of Exeter, in the fourteenth century.* We 
must also include the contemporary or nearly contem- 
porary chroniclers, — Gervase, Diceto, Hoveden, and 
Giraldus Cambrensis and the fragment from the Lans- 
downe MS. edited by Canon Eobertson ; '^ and, in the 
next century, Matthew Paris and Brompton. 

Of these thirty narrators, four — Edward Grim, 
William Fitzstephen, John of Salisbury (who unfortu- 
nately supplies but little), and the anonymous author 
of the Lambeth MS. — claim to have been eyewitnesses. 
Three others — William of Canterbury,^ Benedict, af ter- 

1 Vitse et Epistol^ S. Thomae Cantuariensis, ed. Giles, 8 vols. 

2 Part of the poem was published by Emmanuel Bekker, in the 
Berlin Transactions, 1838, part ii. pp. 25-168, from a fragment in the 
Wolfenbuttel MSS. ; and the whole has since appeared in the same 
Transactions, 1844, from a mauu.script in the British Museum. It was 
also published in Paris, by Le Roux de Lancy, in 1843. 

3 This metrical "' Life and Martyrdom of Saint Thomas " (composed 
in the reign of Henry III.) has l)eeu printed for the Percy Society, and 
edited by Mr. Black. 

•* Grandison's Life exists only in manuscript. The copy which I have 
used is in the Bodleian Library (MS. 493). 
5 Archaiologia Cantiana, vii. 210. 
'^ A complete manuscript of William of Canterbury has been found 



70 SOURCES OF INFOEMATIOX. 

wards Abbot of Peterborough, and Gervase of Canter- 
bury — were monks of the convent, and, though not 
present at the massacre, were probably somewhere in 
the precincts. Herbert of Bosham, Roger of Pontigny, 
and Gamier, though not in England at the time, had 
been on terms of intercourse more or less intimate with 
Becket, and the two latter especially seem to have taken 
the utmost pains to ascertain the truth of the facts 
they relate. From these several accounts we can re- 
cover the particulars of the death of Archbishop Becket 
to the minutest details. It is true that, being written 
by monastic or clerical historians after the national 
feeling had been roused to enthusiasm in his belialf, 
allowance must be made for exaggeration, suppression, 
and every kind of false coloring which could set off 
their hero to advantage. It is true, also, that on some 
few points the various authorities are hopelessly irrec- 
oncilable. But, still, a careful comparison of the narra- 
tors with each other and with the localities leads to a 
conviction that on the whole the facts have been sub- 
stantially preserved, and that, as often happens, the truth 
can be ascertained in spite, and even in consequence, 
of attempts to distort and suppress it. Accordingly, few 
occurrences in the Middle Ages have been so graphi- 
cally and copiously described, and few give such an 
insight into the manners and customs, the thoughts and 
feelings, not only of the man himself, but of the entire 
age, as the eventful tragedy, known successively as the 
" martyrdom," the " accidental death," the " righteous 
execution," and the " murder of Thomas Becket." 

The year 1170 witnessed the termination of the 
struggle of eight years between the king and the 

by Mr. Robertson at Winchester, of which parts are published in the 
" Archteologia Cautiana," vi. 4. 



1170.] CORONATION OF HENRY III. 71 

Archbishop ; in July the final reconciliation had been 
effected with Henry in France ; in the beginning of 
December, Becket had landed at Sandwich,^ — the port 
of the Archbishops of Canterbury, — and thence entered 
the metropolitical city, after an absence of six years, 
amidst the acclamations of the people. The cathedral 
was hung with silken drapery ; magnificent banquets 
were prepared ; the churches resounded with organs 
and bells, the palace-hall with trumpets ; and the Arch- 
bishop preached in the chapter-house on the text "Here 
we have no abiding city, but we seek one to come."^ 
Great difficulties, however, still remained. In addition 
to the general question of the immunities of the clergy 
from secular jurisdiction, which was the original point 
in dispute between the king and the Archbishop, another 
had arisen within this very year, of much less impor- 
tance in itself, but which now threw the earlier contro- 
versy into the shade,^ and eventually brought about the 
final catastrophe. In the preceding June, Henry, with 
the view of consolidating his power in England, had 
caused his eldest son to be crowned king, not merely 
as his successor, but as his colleague, insomuch that 
by contemporary chroniclers he is always called " the 
young king," sometimes even "Henry III."* In the 
absence of the Archbishop of Canterbury the ceremony 
of coronation was performed by Roger of Bishop's 
Bridge, Archbishop of York, assisted by Gilbert Foliot 
and Jocelyn the Lombard, Bishops of London and of 
Salisbury, under (what was at least believed to be) the 
sanction of a Papal brief. ^ The moment the intelli- 

1 Gamier, 59, 9. ^ Fitzstephen, ed. Giles, i. 283. 

3 Giles, Epp., i. 65. 

* Hence, perhaps, the precision with which the number '■ III." is 
added (for the first time) on the coins of Henry III. 
^ See Milman's History of Latin Christianity, iii. 510, 511. 



72 CONTEOVEESY WITH ARCHBISHOP OF YOEK. [1170. 

gence was communicated to Becket, who was then m 
France, a new blow seemed to be struck at his rights ; 
but this time it was not the privileges of his order, but 
of his office, that were attacked. The inalienable right ^ 
of crowning the sovereigns of England, from the time 
of Augustine downwards, inherent in the See of Canter- 

1 Tins contest with Beclcet for tlie privileges of tlie See of York, 
thougli tlie most important, was not tlie only one -wliicli Archbishop 
Eoger sustained. At the Court of Northampton tlieir crosses had al- 
ready confronted each other, like hostile spears. (Fitzstephen, 226.) 
It was a standing question between the two Archbishops, and Eoger 
continued to maintain pre-eminence of his see against Becket's succes- 
sor. " In 1176," says Fuller, "a synod was called at Westminster, the 
Pope's legate being present thereat; on whose right hand sat Richard, 
Archbishop of Canterbmy, as in his proper place ; when in springs 
Roger of York, and finding Canterbury so seated, fairly sits him 
down on Canterbury's lap, " irreverently pressing his haunches down 
upon the Archbishop," says Stephen of Birchington. " It matters as 
little to the reader as to the writer," the historian continues, "whether 
Roger beat Richard, or Richard beat Roger ; yet, once for all, we will 
reckon up the arguments which each see alleged for its proceedings," 
— wiiich accordingly follow with his usual racy humor. (Fuller's 
Church History, iii. §3 ; see also Memorials of Westminster, chap, v.) 
Nor Avas York the only see which contested the Primacy of Canter- 
bury at this momentous crisis. Gilbert Foliot endeavored in his own 
person to revive the claims of London, which had been extinct from 
the fabulous age of Lucius, son of Cole. " He aims," says John of 
Salisbury, in an epistle burning with indignation, — " he aims at trans- 
ferring the metropolitical see to London, where he boa.sts that the 
Archtiamen once sate, whilst Jupiter was worshipped there. And who 
knows but that this religious and discreet bishop is planning the 
restoration of the worship of Jupiter ; so that, if he cannot get the 
Archbishopric in any other way, he may have at least the name and 
title of Archtiamen ! He relies," continues the angry partisan, "on an 
oracle of Merlin, who, inspired by I know not what spirit, is said be- 
fore Augustiue".s coming to have prophesied the transference of the 
dignity of Canterbury to London." (Ussher, Brit. Eccl. Ant., p. 711.) 
The importance attached to this question of coronation may be further 
illustrated by the long series of efhgies of the primates of Germany, in 
Mayeuce Cathedral, where the Archbishops of that see— the Canter- 
bury of the German Empire — are represented in the act of crowning 
the German Emperors as the most characteristic trait in their archi- 
episcopal careers. 



1170.] CONTROVERSY WITH ARCHBISHOP OF YORK. 73 

bury, had been infringed ; and with his usual ardor he 
procured from the Pope letters against the three prel- 
ates who had taken part in the daring act, probably 
with the authority of the Pope himself. These letters 
consisted of a suspension of the Archbishop of York, 
and a revival of a former excommunication of the Bish- 
ops of London and Salisbury. His earliest thought 
on landing in England was to get them conveyed to the 
offending prelates, who were then at Dover. They sent 
some clerks to remonstrate with 1dm at Canterbury ; 
but finding that he was not to be moved, they em- 
barked for France, leaving, however, a powerful auxil- 
iary in the person of Randulf de Broc, a knight to 
whom the king had granted possession of the archi- 
episcopal castle of Saltwood, and who was for this, if for 
no other reason, a sworn enemy to Becket and his re- 
turn. The first object of the Archbishop was to con- 
ciliate the young king, who was then at Woodstock ; 
and his mode of courting him was characteristic. Three 
splendid ^ chargers, of which his previous experience of 
horses enabled him to know the merits, were the gift 
by which he hoped to win over the mind of his former 
pupil ; and he himself, after a week's stay at Canter- 
bury, followed the messenger who was to announce his 
present to the prince. He passed through Eochester in 
state, entered London in a vast procession that ad- 
vanced three miles out of the city to meet him, and 
took up his quarters at Southwark, in the palace of 
the aged Bishop of Winchester, Henry of Blois, brother 
of King Stephen. Here he received orders from the 
young king to proceed no further, but return instantly 
to Canterbury. In obedience to the command, but 
professedly (and this is a characteristic illustration of 

1 Fitzstephen, i. 284, 285. 



74 PARTING WITH THE ABBOT OF ST. ALBANS. [1170. 

much that follows) from a desire to be at his ]3ost on 
Christmas Day, he relinquished his design, and turned 
for the last time from the city of his birth to the city 
of his death. 

One more opening of reconciliation occurred. Be- 
fore he finally left the vicinity of London he halted 
for a few days at his manor-house at Harrow, probably 
to make inquiries about a contumacious priest who then 
occupied the vicarage of that town. He sent thence to 
the neighboring abbey of St. Albans to request an in- 
terview with the Abbot Simon.^ The Abbot came 
over with magnificent presents from the good cheer of 
his abbey ; and the Archbishop was deeply affected on 
seeing him, embraced and kissed him tenderly, and 
urged him, pressing the Abbot's hand to his heart 
under his cloak and quivering with emotion, to make 
a last attempt on the mind of the prince. The Abbot 
went to Woodstock, but returned without success. 
Becket, heaving a deep sigh and shaking his head 
significantly, said, " Let be, — let be. Is it not so, 
is it not so, that the days of the end hasten to their 
completion ? " He then endeavored to console his 
friend : " My Lord Abbot, many thanks for your fruit- 
less labor. The sick man is sometimes beyond the 
reach of physicians, but he will soon bear his own 
judgment." He then turned to the clergy around 
him, and said, with the deep feeling of an injured 
primate, "Look you, my friends, the Abbot, who is 
bound by no obligations to me, has done more for 
me than all my brother-bishops and suffragans ; " al- 
luding especially to the charge which the Abbot had 

1 This interview is given at length in Matthew I'aris, who, as a 
monk of St. Albans, probably derived it from the traditiou.s uf the 
Abbey. (Hist. Angl., 124; Vit. Abbat., 91.) 



1170.] INSULTS FKOM THE BROCS OF SALTWOOD. 75 

left with the cellarer of St. Albans to supply the 
Archbishop with everything during his own absence 
at Woodstock. At last the day of parting came. The 
Abbot, with clasped hands, entreated Becket to spend 
the approaching festival of Christmas and St. Stephen's 
Day at his own abbey of the great British martyr. 
Becket, moved to tears, replied : " Oh, how gladly 
would I come, but it has been otherwise ordered. 
Go in peace, dear brother, go in peace to your church, 
which may God preserve ! but I go to a suflicient 
excuse for my not going with you. But come with 
me, and be my guest and comforter in my many 
troubles." They parted on the high ridge of the hill 
of Harrow, to meet no more. 

It was not without reason that the Archbishop's 
mind was filled with gloomy forebodings. The first 
open manifestations of hostility proceeded from the 
family of the Brocs of Saltwood. Already tidings 
had reached him that Eandulf de Broc had seized a 
vessel laden with wine from the king, and had killed 
the crew^ or imprisoned them in Pevensey Castle. This 
injury was promptly repaired at the bidding of the 
young king, to whom the Archbishop had sent a com- 
plaint through the Prior of Dover ^ and the friendly 
Abbot of St. Albans. But the enmity of the Brocs 
was not so easily allayed. No sooner had the Primate 
reached Canterbury than he was met by a series of 
fresh insults. [Dec. 24.] Randulf, he w^as told, was 
hunting down his archiepiscopal deer with his own 
dogs in his own woods ; and Robert, another of the 
same family, who had been a Cistercian monk, but 
had since taken to a secular life, sent out his nephew 
John to waylay and cut off the tails of a sumpter 

1 Fitzstephen, i. 286. 



76 SCENE IN THE CATHEDRAL CHRISTMAS DAY. [1170. 

mule and a horse of the Archbishop. This jest, or 
outrage (according as we regard it), which occurred 
on Christinas Eve, took deep possession of Becket's 
mind.^ On Christmas Day, after the solemn celebra- 
tion of the usual midnight Mass, he entered the ca- 
thedral for the services of that great festival. Before 
the performance of High Mass he mounted the pulpit 
in the chapter-house, and preached on the text, " On 
earth, peace to men of good will." It was the reading 
(perhaps the true reading) of the Vulgate version, and 
had once before afforded him the opportunity of reject- 
ing the argument on his return that he ought to come 
in peace. " There is no peace," he said, " but to men 
of good will." ^ On this limitation of the universal 
message of Christian love he now proceeded to dis- 
course. He began by speaking of the sainted fathers 
of the church of Canterbury, the presence of whose 
bones made doubly hallowed the consecrated ground. 
"One martyr," he said, "they had already," — Alfege, 
murdered by the Danes, whose tomb stood on the north 
side of the high altar ; " it was possible," he added, " that 
they would soon have another."^ The people who 
thronged the nave were in a state of wild excitement ; 
they wept and groaned ; and an audible murmur ran 
through the church, " Father, why do you desert us so 
soon ? To whom will you leave us ? " But as he went 
on with his discourse, the plaintive strain gradually 
rose into a tone of fiery indignation. " You would have 
thought," says Herbert of Bosham, who was present, 
"that you were looking at the prophetic beast, which 
had at once the face of a man and the face of a lion." 
He spoke, — the fact is recorded by all the biographers 
without any sense of its extreme incongruity, — he 

1 Fitzstepheu, i. 287. 2 ibid., 283. 3 ibid., 292. 



1170.] SCENE IN THE CATHEDRAL CHRISTMAS DAY. 77 

spoke of the insult of the docked tail ^ of the sumpter 
mule, aud, in a voice of thunder,^ excommunicated 
Randulf and Robert de Broc ; and in the same sen- 
tence included the Vicar of Thirlwood, and Nigel of 
Sackviile, the Vicar of Harrow, for occupying those 
incumbrances without his authority, and refusing ac- 
cess to his officials.^ He also publicly denounced and 
forbade communication with the three bishops who 
by crowning the young king had not feared to en- 
croach upon the prescriptive rights of the church of 
Canterbury. " May they be cursed," he said, in con- 
clusion, " by Jesus Christ, and may their memory be 
blotted out of the assembly of the saints, whoever shall 
sow hatred and discord between me and my Lord the 
King."^ With these words he dashed the candle on 
the pavement,^ in token of the extinction of his ene- 
mies ; and as he descended from the pulpit to pass to 
the altar to celebrate Mass, he repeated to his Welsh 
cross-bearer, Alexander Llewellyn, the prophetic words, 
" One martyr. Saint Alfege, you have already ; another, 
if God will, you will have soon." ^ The service in the 
cathedral w^as followed by the banquet in his hall, at 

1 According to the popular belief, the excommunication of the 
Broc family was not the only time that Becket avenged a similar 
offence. Lamhard, in his " Peram1)ulations of Kent," says that the 
people of Stroud, near Rochester, insulted Becket as he rode through 
the town, and, like the Brocs, cut off the tails of his horses. Their 
descendants, as a judgment for the crime, were ever after born with 
horses' tails. (See, however, the previous Lecture, p. 61.) A curse 
lighted also on the blacksmiths of a town where one of that trade had 
"dogged his horse." (Fuller's Worthies.) "Some in Spain (to my 
own knowledge), at this very day, believe that the English, especially 
the Kentish men, are born with tails for curtailing Becket's mule." 
(Covel on the Greek Church, Preface, p. xv.) 

2 Herbert,!. 323; Gamier, 63, 4. 3 Gamier, 71, 15. 

4 Fitzstephen, i. 292. 5 Grim, ed. Giles, i. C8. 

6 Fitzstephen, i. 292. 



78 LAST ACTS OF BECKET. [1170. 

which, although Christmas Day fell this year on a Fri- 
day, it was observed that he ate as usual, in honor of 
the joyous festival of the Nativity. On the next day, 
Saturday, the Feast of Saint Stephen, and on Sunday, 
the Feast of Saint John, he again celebrated Mass ; and 
towards the close of the day, under cover of the dark, 
he sent away, with messages to the King of France and 
the Archbishop of Sens, his faithful servant Herbert of 
Bosham, telling him that he would see him no more, 
but that he was anxious not to expose him to the fur- 
ther suspicions of Henry. Herbert departed with a 
heavy heart,^ and with him went Alexander Llewellyn, 
the Welsh cross-bearer. The Archbishop sent off an- 
other servant to the Pope, and two others to the Bishop 
of Norwich, with a letter relating to Hugh, Earl of 
Norfolk. He also drew up a deed appointing his priest 
William to the chapelry of Penshurst, with an excom- 
munication against any one who should take it from 
him.2 These are his last recorded public acts. On the 
night of the same Sunday he received a warning let- 
ter from France, announcing that he was in peril from 
some new attack.^ What this was, is now to be told. 

The three prelates of York, London, and Salisbury, 
having left England as soon as they heard that the 
Archbishop was immovable, arrived in France a few 
days before Christmas,'' and immediately proceeded 
to the king, who was then at the Castle of Bur, near 
Bayeux.^ It was a place already famous in history 
as the scene of the interview between AVilliam and 

1 Herbert, i.324, 325. 

2 Fitzstephen, i. 292, 293. 

3 Anon. Passio Tertia, ed. Giles, ii. 156. 
* Herbert, i. 319. 

^ Garnier, 65 (who gives the interview in great detail) ; Florence 
of Worcester, i. 153. 



1170] FURY OF THE KING. 79 

Harold, when the oath which led to the conquest of 
England was perfidiously exacted and sworn. All 
manner of rumors about Becket's proceedings had 
reached the ears of Henry, and he besought the ad- 
vice of the three prelates. The Archbishop of York 
answered cautiously, " Ask council from your barons 
and knights ; it is not for us to say what must be 
done." A pause ensued ; and tlien it was added, — 
whether by Eoger or by some one else does not clearly 
appear, — " As long as Thomas lives, you will have 
neither good days, nor peaceful kingdom, nor quiet 
life." ^ The words goaded the king into one of those 
paroxysms of fury to which all the earlier Plantagenet 
princes were subject, and which was believed by them- 
selves to arise from a mixture of demoniacal blood in 
their race. It is described in Henry's son John as 
"something beyond anger; he was so changed in his 
whole body, that a man would hardly have known 
him. His forehead was drawn up into deep furrows ; 
his flaming eyes glistened ; a livid hue took the place 
of color," 2 Henry himself is said at these moments 
to have become like a wild beast; his eyes, naturally 
dove-like and quiet, seemed to flash lightning ; his 
hands struck and tore whatever came in their way. On 
one occasion he flew at a messenger who brought him 
bad tidings, to tear out his eyes ; at another time he 
is represented as having flung down his cap, torn off 
his clothes, thrown the silk coverlet from his bed, and 
rolled upon it, gnawing the straw and rushes. Of such 
a kind was the frenzy which struck terror through all 
hearts at the Council of Clarendon, and again at North- 
ampton, when with tremendous menaces, sworn upon 
his usual oath, "the eyes of God," he insisted on 

^ Fitzstephen, i. 390. '- Richard of Devizes, § 40. 



80 THE FOUE KNIGHTS. [1170. 

Becket's appearance.^ Of such a kind was the frenzy 
which he showed on the present occasion. " A fellow," 
he exclaimed, " that has eaten my bread has lifted up 
liis heel against me ; a fellow that I loaded with 
benefits dares insult the king and the whole royal 
family, and tramples on the whole kingdom ; a fel- 
low that came to court on a lame horse, with a cloak 
for a saddle, sits without hindrance on the throne 
itself ! What sluggard wretches," he burst forth again 
and again, "what cowards have I brought up in my 
court, who care nothing for their allegiance to their 
master! Not one will deliver me from this low-born 
priest ! " ^ and with these fatal words he rushed out of 
the room. 

There were present among the courtiers four knights, 
whose names long lived in the memory of men, and 
every ingenuity was exercised to extract from them an 
evil augury of the deed wdiich has made them famous, 

— Eeginald Fitzurse, " son of the Bear," and of truly 
" bear-like " character (so the Canterbury monks repre- 
sented it) ; Hugh de Moreville, " of the city of death " 

— of whom a dreadful story was told of his having 
ordered a young Saxon to be boiled alive on the false 
accusation of his wife ; William de Tracy, — a brave 
soldier, it was said, but " of parricidal wickedness ; " 
Richard le Brez, or le Bret, commonly known as Brito, 
from the Latinized version of his name in the " Chron- 
icles," — more tit, they say, to have been called the 
" Brute." 2 They are all described as on familiar terms 

1 Roger, 124, 104. 

^ Will. Cant., ed. Giles, ii. 30; Grim, 68 ; Gervase, 1414. 

3 Will. Cant., 31. This play on the word will appear less strange, 
when we remember the legendary superstrncture bnilt on the identity 
of the Trojan BruUis with the primitive Briton. See Lambard's Kent, 
p. 306. Fitzurse is called simply " Reginald Bure." 



1170] THEIR HISTORY. 81 

with the king himself, and sometimes, in official lan- 
guage, as gentlemen of the bedchamber.^ They also 
appear to have been brought together by old associa- 
tions. Fitzurse, Moreville, and Tracy had all sworn 
homage to Becket while Chancellor. Fitzurse, Tracy, 
and Bret had all connections with Somersetshire. 
Their rank and lineage can even now be accurately 
traced through the medium of our county historians 
and legal records. Moreville was of higher rank and 
office than the others. He was this very year Justice 
Itinerant of the counties of Northumberlaud and Cum- 
berland, where he inherited the barony of Burgh-on- 
the-Sands and other possessions from his father Pioger 
and his grandfather Simon. He was likewise forester 
of Cumberland, owner of the Castle of Knaresborough, 
and added to his paternal property that of his wife, 
Helwise de Stute-ville.^ Tracy was the younger of 
two brothers, sons of John de Sudely and Grace de 
Traci. He took the name of his mother, who was 
daughter of AVilliam de Traci, a natural son of Henry 
the First. On his father's side he was descended from 
the Saxon Ethelred. He was born at Toddington, in 
Gloucestershire,^ where, as well as in Devonshire,* he 
held large estates. Fitzurse w^as the descendant of 
Urso, or Ours, who had, under the Conqueror, held 
Grittleston in Wiltshire, of the Abbey of Glastonbury. 
His father, Ptichard Fitzurse, became possessed, in the 
reign of Stephen, of the manor of Willeton in Somer- 
setshire, which had descended to Reginald a few years 

1 Cubicularii. 

'■^ Foss's Judges of England, i. 279. 

3 Rudder's Gloucestershire, 770 ; Pedigree of the Tracys, in Britton's 
Toddington. 
* Liber Niger Scaccarii, 115-221. 

6 



82 THE KNIGHTS SET OUT. [1170. 

before the time of which we are speaking.^ He was 
also a tenant in chief in Northamptonshire, in tail in 
Leicestershire.^ Richard the Breton was, it would ap- 
pear from an incident in the murder, intimate with 
Prince William, the king's brother.'^ He and his 
brother Edmund had succeeded to their father Simon 
le Bret, who had probably come over with the Con- 
queror from Brittany, and settled in Somersetshire, 
where the property of the family long continued in 
the same rich vale under the Quantock Hills, which 
contains Willeton, the seat of the Fitzurses.^ There 
is some reason to suppose that he was related to Gil- 
bert Foliot.^ If so, his enmity to the Archbishop is 
easily explained. 

It is not clear on what day the fatal exclamation of 
the king was made. Fitzstephen '^ reports it as taking 
place on Sunday, the 27th of December. Others," who 
ascribe a more elaborate character to the whole plot, 
date it a few days before, on Thursday the 24th, — the 
whole Court taking part in it, and Roger, Archbishop of 
York, giving full instructions to the knights as to their 
future course. This perhaps arose from a confusion with 
the Council of Barons ^ actually held after the departure 
of the knights, of which, however, the chief result was 
to send three courtiers after them to arrest their prog- 
ress. This second mission arrived too late. The four 
knights left Bur on the night of the king' fury. They 
then, it was thought, proceeded by different roads to the 
French coast, and crossed the Channel on the following 

1 CoUinson's Somersetshire, iii. 487. 

2 Liber Niger Scaccarii, 216-288. 8 Fitzstephen, i. 303. 
* Collinsou's Somersetshire, iii. 514. 

6 See Kobertson's Becket, 266. ^ Fitzstephen, i. 290. 

^ Gamier, 65, 17 ; so also Gervase's Chronicle, 1414. 
e Robertson's Becket, 268. 



1170] THEY ARRIVE AT ST. AUGUSTINE'S ABBEY. 83 

day. Two of them landed, as was afterwards noticed 
with malicious satisfaction, at the port of " Logs " near 
Dover,^ two of them at Winchelsea ;''^ and all four ar- 
rived at the same hour^ at the fortress of Saltwood 
Castle, the property of the See of Canterbury, but now 
occupied, as we hav^e seen, by Becket's chief enemy, — 
Dan Randulf of IJroc, who came out to welcome them.^ 
Here they would doubtless be told of the excommu- 
nication launched against their host on Christmas 
Day. In the darkness of the night — the long win- 
ter night of the 28th of December^ — it was believed 
that, with candles extinguished, and not even seeing 
each other's faces, the scheme was concerted. Early 
in the morning of the next day they issued orders in 
the king's name ^ for a troop of soldiers to be levied 
from the neighborhood to march with them to Can- 
terbury. They themselves mounted their chargers and 
galloped along the old Itoman road from Lymne to Can- 
terbury, which, under the name of Stone Street, runs in 
a straight line of nearly fifteen miles from Saltwood 
to the hills immediately above the city. They pro- 
ceeded instantly to St. Augustine's Abbey, outside the 
walls, and took up their quarters with Clarembald, the 
Abbot." 

The abbey was in a state of considerable confusion at 
the time of their arrival. A destructive fire had ravaged 
the buildings two years before,^ and the reparations 
could hardly have been yet completed. Its domestic 
state was still more disturbed. It was now nearly ten 
years since a feud had been raging between the in- 

1 Grim, 69; Gervase's Chronicle, 1414. 

2 Garnier, 66,67. 3 Fitzstephen, i. 290. 
* Garuier, 66, 29. 5 Garnier, 66, 22. 

« Grim, 69; Roger, i. 160; Fitzstephen, i. 29.3; Garnier, 66, 6. 
"^ Gervase's Chronicle, 1414. ^ Thorn's Chronicle, 1817. 



84 THE FATAL TUESDAY. [1170. 

mates and their Abbot, who had been intruded on them 
in 1162, as Becket had been on the ecclesiastics of 
the cathedral, — but with the ultimate difterence that 
whilst Becket had become the champion of the clergy, 
Clarembald had stood fast by the king, his patron, 
which perpetuated the quarrel between the monks and 
their superior. He had also had a dispute with Becket 
about his right of benediction in the abbey, and had 
been employed by the king against him on a mission 
in France. He would, therefore, naturally be eager to 
receive the new-comers ; and with him they concerted 
measures for their future movements.^ Having sent 
orders to the mayor, or provost, of Canterbury to issue 
a proclamation in the king's name, forbidding any one 
to offer assistance to the Archbishop,^ the knights once 
more mounted their chargers, and accompanied by Rob- 
ert of Broc, who had probably attended them from 
Saltwood, rode under the long line of wall which still 
separates the city and the precincts of the cathedral 
from St. Augustine's Monastery, till they reached the 
great gateway which opened into the court of the 
Archbishop's palace.^ They were followed by a band 
of about a dozen armed men, whom they placed in the 
house of one Gilbert,* which stood hard by the gate. 

It was Tuesday, the 29th of December. Tuesday, 
"his friends remarked, had always been a significant day 
in Becket's life. On a Tuesday he w\as born and bap- 
tized ; on a Tuesday he had fled from Northampton ; 
on a Tuesday he had left England on his exile ; on a 

1 Gervase's Chronicle, 1414. ^ Gamier, 60, 10. 

8 The Archbishop's palace is now almost entirely destroyed, and its 
place occupied by modern houses. But an ancient gateway on the 
site of the one here mentioned, though of later date, still leads from 
Palace Street into these houses. 

4 Fitzstephen, i. 297. 



1170.] THE FATAL TUESDAY. 85 

Tuesday he had received warning of his martyrdom in 
a vision at Pontigny ; on a Tuesday he had returned 
from that exile. It was now on a Tuesday that the fa- 
tal hour came ; ^ and (as the next generation observed) 
it was on a Tuesday that his enemy King Henry was 
buried, on a Tuesday that the martyr's relics were 
translated ; ^ and Tuesday was long afterwards re- 
garded as the week-day especially consecrated to the 
saint with whose fortunes it had thus been so strangely 
interwoven.^ Other omens were remarked. A sol- 
dier who was in the plot whispered to one of the 
cellarmen of the Priory that the Archbishop would not 
see the evening of Tuesday. Becket only smiled. A 
citizen of Canterbury, Eeginald by name, had told him 
that there were several in England who were bent on 
his death ; to which he answered, with tears, that he 
knew he should not be killed out of church.^ He 
himself had told several persons in France, that he 
was convinced he should not outlive the year,^ and in 
two days the year would be ended. 

Whether these evil auguries weighed upon his mind, 
or whether his attendants afterwards ascribed to his 
words a more serious meaning than they really bore, 
the day opened with gloomy forebodings. Before the 
break of dawn the Archbishop startled the clergy of 
his bedchamber by asking whether it would be possi- 
ble for any one to escape to Sandwich before daylight, 
and on being answered in the aftirmative, added, " Let 

1 Robert of Gloucester, Life of Becket, 285. 

2 Diceto (Giles), i. 377 ; Matthew Paris, 97. It was the fact of the 
29th of December falling on a Tuesday that fixes the date of his death 
to 1170, not 1171. (Gervase, 1418.) 

^ See the deed quoted in "Journal of the British Archaeological As- 
sociation," April, 1854. 

* Grandison, c. 5. See p. 81. ^ Benedict. 71. 



86 THE KNIGHTS ENTER THE PALACE. [1170. 

any one escape who wishes." That niornmg he attended 
Mass in the cathedral ; then passed a long time in the 
chapter-house, confessing to two of the monks, and re- 
ceiving, as seems to have been his custom, three scourg- 
ings.^ Then came the usual banquet in the great hall 
of the palace at three in the afternoon. He was ob- 
served to drink more than usual ; and his cup-bearer, 
in a whisper, reminded him of it.^ '■ He who has 
much blood to shed," answered Becket, " must drink 
much." ^ 

The dinner * was now over ; the concluding hymn or 
" grace " w^as finished,^ and Becket had retired to his 
private room,^ where he sat on his bed,''' talking to his 
friends ; whilst the servants, according to the practice 
which is still preserved in our old collegiate establish- 
ments, remained in the hall making their meal of the 
broken meat which was left.^ The floor of the hall was 
strewn with fresh hay and straw,^ to accommodate with 
clean places those who could not find room on the 
benches ; ^^ and the crowd of beggars and poor,^^ who 
daily received their food from the Archbishop, had 
gone ^^ into the outer yard, and were lingering before 
their final dispersion. It was at this moment that the 
four knights dismounted in the court before the hall.^-^ 
The doors were all open, and they passed through the 

1 Gamier, 70, 25. 

- Anon. Lambeth, ed. Gile.s, ii. 121 ; Roger, 169; Garuier, 77, 2. 
^ Graudisou, c. 5. See p. 61. 
4 Ibid. 

^ For the account of his dinners, see Herbert, 63, 64, 70, 71. 
^ Grim, 70 ; Benedict, ii. 55. 

■• Roger, 163. 8 Gamier, 20, 10. 

^ Filzstephen, i. 189. This was in winter. In summer it would have 
been fre.sh rushes and green leaves. 

1' Grim, 70 ; Fitzstepheu, i. 294. " Gamier, 66, 17. 

1- Fitzstephen, i. 310. i^ Gervase, 1415. 



1170.] APPEARANCE OF BECKET. 87 

crowd without opposition. Either to avert suspicion or 
from deference to the feeling of the time, which forbade 
the entrance of armed men into the peaceful precincts 
of the cathedra V they left their weapons behind, and 
their coats of mail were concealed by the usual cloak 
and gown,2 the dress of ordinary life. One attendant, 
Eadulf, an archer, followed them. They were generally 
known as courtiers ; and the servants invited them to 
partake of the remains of the feast. They declined, 
and were pressing on, when, at the foot of the staircase 
leading from the hall to the Archbishop's room, they 
were met by William Fitz-Nigel, the seneschal, who 
had just parted from the Primate with a permission to 
leave his service and join the king in France. When 
he saw the knights, whom he immediately recognized, 
he ran forward and gave them the usual kiss of saluta- 
tion, and at their request ushered them to the room 
where Becket sat. " My Lord," he said, " here are four 
knights from King Henry, wishing to speak to you." ^ 
" Let them come in," said Becket. It must have been 
a solemn moment, even for those rough men, when they 
first found themselves in the presence of the Arch- 
bishop. Three of them — Hugh de Moreville, Eegi- 
nald Fitzurse, and William de Tracy — had known him 
long before in the days of his splendor as Chancellor 
and favorite of the king. He was still in the vigor 
of strength, though in his fifty-third year : his counte- 
nance, if we may judge of it from the accounts at the 
close of the day, still retained its majestic and striking 
aspect; his eyes were large and piercing, and always 

1 Grim, 70 ; Roger, 161. 

2 Gamier, 66, 2.'); 67, 10; Roger, 161 ; Grim, 70. See the Arch- 
bishop's permission in page 54. 

^ Gamier, 67, 15. 



88 THE KNIGHTS' INTERVIEW WITH BECKET. [1170. 

glancing to and fro;^ and his talP figure, though really 
spare and thin, had a portly look from the number of 
wrappings which he bore beneath his ordinary clothes, 
liound about him sat or lay on the Hoor the clergy of 
his household, — amongst them, his faithful counsellor, 
John of Salisbury ; William Fitzstephen, his chaplain ; 
and Edward Grim, a Saxon monk of Cambridge,^ who 
had arrived but a few days before on a visit. 

When the four knights appeared, Becket, without 
looking at tliein, pointedly continued his conversation 
with the monk who sat next him, and on whose shoul- 
der he was leaning.* They, on their part, entered with- 
out a word, beyond a greeting exchanged in a whisper 
to the attendant who stood near the door,^ and then 
marched straight to where the Archbishop sat, and 
placed themselves on the floor at his feet, among the 
clergy who were reclining around. Radulf, the archer, 
sat behind them ^ on the boards. Becket now turned 
round for the first time, and gazed steadfastly on each 
in silence,' which he at last broke by saluting Tracy 
by name. The conspirators continued to look minutely 
at one another, till Fitzurse,^ who throughout took the 
lead, replied, with a scornful expression, "God help 
you ! " Becket's face grew crimson,^ and he glanced 
round at their countenances,^'* which seemed to gather 
fire from Fitzurse's speech. Fitzurse again broke forth : 
"We have a message from the king over the water; 
tell us whether you will hear it in private, or in the 
hearing of all." ^^ " As you wish," said the Archbishop. 

1 Herbert, i. 63. ^ Fitzstephen, i. 185. 

3 Herbert, i. 337. * Garuier, 67, 20, 26. 

5 Benedict, 55. ^ Roger, 161 ; Gamier, 67. 

■ Roger, 161. 8 Roger, 161. 

Grim, 70; Gamier, 67, 18. "^ Roger, 161. 

11 Grim, 70; Roger, 161 ; Garuier, 67, 10-15. 



1170.] THE KNIGHTS' INTERVIEW WITH BECKET. 89 

" Nay, as yo'it wish," said Fitzurse.^ " Nay, as you wish," 
said Becket. The monks, at the Archbishop's intima- 
tion, withdrew into an adjoining room ; but the door- 
keeper ran up and kept the door ajar, that they might 
see from the outside what was going on.^ Fitzurse 
had hardly begun his message, when Becket, suddenly 
struck with a consciousness of his danger, exclaimed, 
" This must not be told in secret," and ordered the 
doorkeeper to recall the monks.^ For a few seconds the 
knights were left alone with Becket ; and the thought 
occurred to them, as they afterwards confessed, of kill- 
ing him with the cross-staff which lay at his feet, — the 
only weapon within their reach.* The monks hurried 
back ; and Fitzurse, apparently calmed by their presence, 
resumed his statement of the complaints of the king. 
These complaints,^ which are given by various chroni- 
clers in very different words, were three in number. 
" The king over the water commands you to perform 
your duty to the king on this side the water, instead 
of taking away his crown." " Eather than take away 
his crown," replied Becket, " I would give him three or 
four crowns." ^ " You have excited disturbances in the 
kingdom, and the king requires you to answer for them 
at his court." " Never," said the Archbishop, " shall 

1 Roger, 161 ; Gamier, 67, 19. 

2 Roger, 161 ; Benedict, 55. 

3 Roger, 162 ; Benedict, 56; Garnier, 67, 20. 

* Grim, 71 ; Roger, 165 ; Garnier, 67, 25. It was probably Tracy's 
thought, as his was the confession generally known. 

^ In this dialogue I have not attempted to give more than the 
words of the leading questions and answers, in which most of the 
chroniclers are agreed. Where the speeches are recorded with great 
varieties of expression, it is impossible to distinguish accurately be- 
tween what was really spoken and what was afterwards written as 
likely to have been spoken. 

^ Benedict, 56 ; Garnier, 68. 



90 THE KNIGHTS' INTERVIEW WITH BECKET. [1170. 

the sea again come between me and my churcli, unless 
I am dragged thence by the feet." " You have excom- 
municated the bishops, and you must absolve them." 
" It was not I," replied Becket, "but the Pope, and you 
must go to him for absolution." He then appealed, in 
language which is variously reported, to the promises 
of the king at their interview in the preceding July. 
Fitzurse burst forth : " What is it you say ? You charge 
the king with treachery." " Eeginald, Eeginald," said 
Becket, " I do no such thing ; but I appeal to the arch- 
bishops, bishops, and great people, five hundred and 
more, who heard it ; and you were present yourself, Sir 
Eeginald." " I was not," said Eeginald ; " I never saw 
nor heard anything of the kind."' " You were," said 
Becket ; " I saw you." ^ The knights, irritated by con- 
tradiction, swore again and again, " by God's wounds," 
that they had borne with him long enough.^ John of 
Salisbury, the prudent counsellor of the Archbishop, 
who perceived that matters were advancing to extremi- 
ties, whispered, ■" My Lord, speak privately to them 
about this." " No," said Becket ; " they make proposals 
and demands which I cannot and ought not to admit." ^ 
He, in his turn, complained of the insults he had 
received. First came the grand grievances of the pre- 
ceding week. " They have attacked my servants ; they 
have cut off my sumpter-niule's tail ; they have carried 
off the casks of wine that were the king's own gift." ^ 
It was now that Hugh de Moreville, the gentlest of the 
four,^ put in a milder answer : " Why did you not 

1 He was remarkable for the tenacity of his memory, uever forget- 
tiug what he had heard or learned. (Gervase's Chronicle.) 
- Benedict, 59; Gamier, 68, 16. 

3 Fitzstephen, i. 295. 

4 Roger, 163; Benedict, 61 ; Gervase, 1415 ; Gamier, 68, 26. 
^ Benedict, 62. 



1170.1 THE KNIGHTS' INTEKVIEW WITH BECKET. 91 

complain to the king of these outrages ? Why do you 
take upon yourself to punish them by your own au- 
thority ? " The Archbishop turned round sharply upon 
him : " Hugh, how proudly you lift up your head ! 
When the rights of the Church are violated, I shall 
wait for no man's permission to avenge them. I will 
give to the king the things that are the king's, but to 
God the things that are God's. It is my business, and I 
alone will see to it."^ For the first time in the inter- 
view, the Archbishop had assumed an attitude of de- 
fiance ; the fury of the knights broke at once through 
the bonds which had partially restrained it, and dis- 
played itself openly in those impassioned gestures which 
are now confined to the half-civilized nations of the 
south and east, but which seem to have been natural 
to all classes of medi;eval Europe. Their eyes flashed 
fire ; they sprang upon their feet, and rushing close up 
to him gnashed their teeth, twisted their long gloves, 
and wildly threw tlieir arms above their heads. Fitzurse 
exclaimed : " You threaten us, you threaten us ; ^ are 
you going to excommunicate us all ? " One of the 
others added : " As I hope for God's mercy, he shall not 
do that ; he has excommunicated too many already." 
The Archbishop also sprang from his couch, in a state 
of strong excitement. "You threaten me," he said, " in 
vain : were all the swords in England hansina over 
my head, you could not terrify nie from my obedience 
to God, and my Lord the Pope.^ Foot to foot shall you 
find me in the battle of the Lord.^ Once I gave way. 
I returned to my obedience to the Pope, and will never- 

1 Roger, 163, 164. 

2 Fitzstephen, i. 296. " Minas, minoe," — a common expression, as it 
would seem. Compare Benedict, 71. 

'^ Roger, 163; Benedict, 61 ; Gervase, 1415. * Benedict, 61. 



92 THE IvNIGHTS' INTERVIEW WITH BECKET. [1170. 

more desert it. And, besides, you know what there is 
between you and me ; I wonder the more tliat you 
should thus threaten the Archbishop in his own house." 
He alluded to the fealty sworn to him while Chancellor 
by Moreville, Fitzurse, and Tracy, which touched the 
tenderest nerve of the feudal character. " There is 
nothing," they rejoined, with an anger which they 
doubtless felt to be just and loyal, — " there is nothing 
between you and us which can be against the king." ^ 

Eoused by the sudden burst of passion on both sides, 
many of the servants and clergy, with a few soldiers of 
the household, hastened into the room, and ranged 
themselves round the Archbishop. Fitzurse turned 
to them and said, " You who are on the king's side, and 
bound to him by your allegiance, stand off!" They 
remained motionless, and Fitzurse called to thein a 
second time, " Guard him ; prevent him from escaping ! " 
The Archbishop said, "I shall not escape." On this 
the knights caught hold of their old acquaintance, 
William Fitz-Xigel, who had entered with the rest, and 
hurried him with them, saying, " Come with us." He 
called out to Becket, " You see what they are doing 
with me." " I see," replied Becket ; " this is their hour, 
and the power of darkness."^ As they stood at the 
door, they exclaimed,^ "It is you who threaten;" and 
in a deep undertone they added some menace, and en- 
joined on the servants obedience to their orders. With 
the quickness of hearing for which he was remarkable, 
he caught the words of their defiance, and darted after 

1 Fitzstephen, i. 29G ; Grim, 72 ; Anon. Passio Quinta, 174. 

2 Fitzstephen, i. 296. 

3 Gamier, 68, 15. For the general fact of the acuteness of his 
senses, both hearing and smell, see Roger, 95. " Vix aliquid in ejns 
preseutia licet longiuscule et submisse dici posset, quod nou audiret si 
aurem apponere voluisset." 



1170.] THE KNIGHTS' INTERVIEW WITH BECKET. 93 

them to the door, entreating the'm to release Fitz- 
Nigel ; ^ then he implored Moreville, as more courteous 
than the others, to return ^ and repeat their message ; 
and lastly, in despair and indignation, he struck his 
neck repeatedly with his hand, and said, " Here, here 
you will tind me." ^ 

The knights, deaf to his solicitations, kept their 
course, seizing as they went another soldier, Eadulf 
Morin, and passed through the hall and court, crying, 
"To arms! to arms !" A few of their companions had 
already taken post within the great gateway, to prevent 
the gate being shut ; the rest, at the shout, poured in 
from the house where they were stationed hard by, 
with the watchword, " King's men ! King's men ! " 
{Beaux ! Beaux !) The gate was instantly closed, 
to cut off communication with the town ; the Arch- 
bishop's porter was removed, and in front of the 
wicket, which was left open, William Fitz-Nigel, who 
seems suddenly to have turned against his master, and 
Simon of Croil, a soldier attached to the household of 
Clarembald, kept guard on horseback.* The knights 
threw off their cloaks and gowns under a large syca- 
more in the garden,^ appeared in their armor, and girt 
on their swords.^ Fitzurse armed himself in the porch,' 
with the assistance of Ptobert Tibia, trencherman of the 

1 Fitzstephen, i. 296. ^ Benedict, 62 ; Gamier, 69. 

3 Grim, 73 ; Roger, 163 ; Garuier, 69, 5 (though he places this speech 
earlier). 

* Fitzstepheu, i. 298. ^ Gervase, Acta Pout., 1672. 

6 Garuier, 70, 11. 

" Fitzstepheu, i. 298. The porch of the hall, built, doubtless on the 
plan of the one here mentioned, by Archbishop Langton about fifty 
years later, still in part remains, incorporated in one of the modern 
houses now occupying the site of the Palace. There is a similar porch 
in a more complete state, the only fragment of a similar hall, adjoin- 
ing tlie palace at Norwich. 



94 THE KNIGHTS' INTERVIEW WITH BECKET. [1170. 

Archbishop. Osbert and Algar, two of the servants, 
seemg their approach, shut and barred the door of the 
hall, and the knights in vain endeavored to force it 
open.^ But Robert of Broc, who had known the pal- 
ace during the time of its occupation by his uncle Ean- 
dolf,^ called out, " Follow me, good sirs, I will show 
you another way ! " and got into the orchard behind 
the kitchen. There was a staircase leading thence to 
the antechamber between the hall and the Archbish- 
op's bedroom. The wooden steps were under repair, 
and the carpenters had gone to their dinner, leaving 
their tools on the stairs.^ Fitzurse seized an axe, and 
the others hatchets ; and thus armed they mounted 
the staircase to the antechamber,^ broke through an 
oriel-window which looked out on the garden,^ entered 
the hall from the inside, attacked and wounded the 
servants who were guarding it, and opened the door 
to the assailants.^ The Archbishop's room was still 
barred and inaccessible. 

Meanwhile Becket, who resumed his calmness as 
soon as the knights had retired, reseated himself on his 
couch, and John of Salisbury again urged moderate 
counsels/ in words which show that the estimate of 
the Archbishop in his lifetime justifies the impression 
of his vehement and unreasonable temper which has 
prevailed in later times, though entirely lost during 
the centuries which elapsed between his death and 
the Eeformation. "It is wonderful, my Lord, that 
you never take any one's advice; it always has been, 

1 Fitzstephen, i. 297, 298. 

2 Fitzstephen, i. 298 ; Roger, 165; Garuier, 70. 

3 Roger, 165; Benedict, 63. 

* Grim, 73; Fitzstephen, i. 298 ; Garuier, 70, 1. 

5 Garnier, 70, 2. 6 Benedict, 63. 

7 Fitzstephen, i. 298 ; Benedict, 62. 



1170.] THEIR ASSAULT ON THE PALACE. 95 

and always is your custom, to do and say what seems 
good to yourself alone." " What would you have me 
do, Dan John ? " ^ said Becket. " Yon ought to have 
taken counsel with your friends, knowing as you do 
that these men only seek occasion to kill you," " I 
am prepared to die," said Becket. "We are sinners," 
said John, " and not yet prepared for death ; and I see 
no one who wishes to die without cause except you."'-^ 
The Archbishop answered, " Let God's will he done." ^ 
" Would to God it might end well ! " sighed John, in 
despair.** The dialogue was interrupted by one of the 
monks rushing in to announce that the knights were 
arming. " Let them arm," said Becket. But in a few 
minutes the violent assault on the door of the hall, 
and the crash of a wooden partition in the passage 
from the orchard, announced that the danger was close 
at hand. The monks, with that extraordinary timidity 
which they always seem to have displayed, instantly 
fled, leaving only a small body of his intimate friends 
or faithful attendants.^ They united in entreating him 
to take refuge in the cathedral. " No," he said : " fear 
not ; all monks are cowards." ^ On this some sprang 
upon him, and endeavored to drag him there by main 
force ; others urged that it was now five o'clock, that 
vespers were beginning, and that his duty called him 
to attend the service. Partly forced, partly persuaded 
by the argument," partly feeling that his doom called 

1 Roger, 164 ; Garnier, 69, 25. 

^ Garnier, 70, 10. 

8 Roger, 164; Benedict, 02; Garnier, 70, 10. 

* Benedict, 62. ^ Garnier, 70, 16. 

6 Roger, 165; Fitzstephen, i. 298. 

' Fitzstephen, i. 299. He had dreamed or anticipated that he should 
be killed in church, and had communicated his apprehensions to the 
abbots of Poutigny and Val-Luisant (Benedict, 65), and, as we have 
seen, to a citizen of Canterbury on the eve of this day. 



96 MIRACLE OF THE LOCK. [1170. 

him thither, he rose and moved ; but seeing that his 
cross-staff was not as usual borne before him, he 
stopped and called for it.^ He remembered, perhaps, 
the memorable day at the Council of Northampton, 
when he had himself borne the cross ^ through the 
royal hall to the dismay and fury of his opponents. His 
ordinary cross-bearer, Alexander Llewellyn, had, as we 
have seen, left him for France^ two days before, and 
the cross-staff was therefore borne by one of his clerks, 
Henry of Auxerre.^ They first attempted to pass along 
the usual passage to the cathedral, through the orchard, 
to the western front of the church. But both court 
and orchard being by this time thronged with armed 
men,^ they turned through a room which conducted to 
a private door '^ that was rarely used, and which led 
from the palace to the cloisters of the monastery. One 
of the monks ran before to force it, for the key was lost. 
Suddenly the door flew open as if of itself ; ''' and in the 
confusion of the moment, when none had leisure or 
inclination to ask how so opportune a deliverance oc- 
curred, it was natural for the story to arise which is 
related, with one exception,^ in all the narratives of the 
period, — that the bolt came off as though it had merely 

1 Fitzstephen, i. 296; Benedict, 64. 2 Herbert, i. 14.3. 

3 Herbert, i. 330. * Fitzstephen, i. 299. 

5 Roger, 165. ^ Garnier, 71. 

■^ Grim, 73; Roger, 166 ; Garnier, 17, 9. 

8 Benedict, 64. It is curious that a similar miracle was thought to 
have occurred on his leaving the royal castle at Northampton. He 
found the gate locked and barred. One of his servants caught sight 
of a bundle of keys hanging aloft, seized it, and with wonderful quick- 
ness (quod quasi iiiiraculum quihusdam r/s((m e.s^), picked out the right 
key from the tangled mass, and opened the door. (Roger, 142.) The 
cellarman Richard was the one who had received intimation of the 
danger (as mentioned in page 85), and who would therefore be on 
the watch. See Willis's Conventual Buildings of Christ Church, 
p. 116. 



1170] SCENE IN THE CATHEDRAL. 97 

bsen fastened on by glue, and left their passage free. 
This one exception is the account by Benedict, then a 
monk of the monastery, and afterwards Abbot of Peter- 
borough ; and his version, compared with that of all 
the other historians, is an instructive commentary on 
a thousand fables of a similar kind. Two cellarmen, 
he says, of the monastery, Richard and William, whose 
lodgings were in that part of the building, hearhig the 
tumult and clash of arms, flew to the cloister, drew 
back the bolt from the other side, and opened the door 
to the party from the palace. Benedict knew nothing 
of the seeming miracle, as his brethren were ignorant 
of the timely interference of the cellarmen. But both 
miracle and explanation would at the moment be alike 
disregarded. Every monk in that terrified band had 
but a single thought, — to reach the church with their 
master in safety. The whole march was a struggle be- 
tween the obstinate attempt of the Primate to preserve 
his dignity, and the frantic eagerness of his attendants 
to gain the sanctuary. As they urged him forward, he 
colored and paused, and repeatedly asked them what 
they feared. The instant they had passed through the 
door which led to the cloister, the subordinates Hew to 
bar it behind them, which he as peremptorily forbade.^ 
For a few steps he walked firmly on, with the cross- 
bearer and the monks before him ; halting once and 
looking over his right shoulder, either to see whether 
the gate was locked, or else if his enemies were pur- 
suing. Then the same ecclesiastic who had hastened 
forward to break open the door called out, " Seize him, 
and carry him ! " ^ Vehemently he resisted, but in vain. 
Some pulled him from before, others pushed from be 
hind.'^ Half carried, half drawn, he was borne along 

1 Fitzstephen, i. 292. 2 Roger, 166. » Garuier, 71, 27. 

7 



98 SCENE IN THE CATHEDRAL. [1170. 

the northern and eastern cloister, crying out, " Let me 
go ; do not drag me ! " Thrice they were delayed, even 
in that short passage ; for thrice he broke loose from 
them, — twice in the cloister itself, and once in the 
chapter-house, which opened out of its eastern side.^ 
At last they reached the door of the lower north tran- 
sept of the cathedral, and here was presented a new 
scene. 

The vespers had already begun, and the monks were 
singing the service in the choir, when two boys rushed 
up the nave, announcing, more by their terrified ges- 
tures than by their words, that the soldiers were burst- 
ing into the palace and the monastery.^ Instantly the 
service was thrown into the utmost confusion ; part 
remained at prayer, part tied into the numerous hid- 
ing-places which the vast fabric affords, and part went 
down the steps of the choir into the transept to meet 
the little band at the cloor.^ " Come in, come in ! " 
exclaimed one of them ; " come in, and let us die to- 
gether ! " The Archbishop continued to stand outside, 
and said, " Go and finish the service. So long as you 
keep in the entrance, I shall not come in." They fell 
back a few paces, and he stepped within the door; 
but finding the whole place thronged with people, he 
paused on the threshold and asked, " What is it that 
these people fear ? " One general answer broke forth, 
" The armed men in the cloister." As he turned and 
said, " I shall go out to them," he heard the clash of 
arms behind.* The knights had just forced their way 

1 Roger, 166. It is from this mention of the chapter-house, which 
occupied the same relative position as the present one, tliat we ascer- 
tain the sides of the cloister by which Becket came. 

2 Will. Cant., 32. 

8 Fitzstephen, i. 294. 

* Benedict, 64 ; Herbert, 330. 



The East Choir. 



1170.] ENTRANCE OF THE KNIGHTS. 99 

into the cloister, and were now (as would appear from 
their being thus seen through the open door) advanc- 
ing along its southern side. They were in mail, which 
covered their faces vip to their eyes, and carried their 
swords drawn.^ With them was Hugh of Horsea, sur- 
named Mauclerc, a subdeacon, chaplain of Eobert de 
Broc.^ Three had hatchets.^ Fitzurse, with the axe 
he had taken from the carpenters, was foremost, shout- 
ing as he came, "Here, here, king's men!" Immedi- 
ately behind him followed Eobert Fitzranulph,* with 
three other knights, whose names are not preserved ; 
and a motley group — some their own followers, some 
from the town — with weapons, though not in armor, 
brought up the rear.^ • At this sight, so unwonted in 
the peaceful cloisters of Canterbury, not probably be- 
held since the time when the monastery had been 
sacked by the Danes, the monks within, regardless of 
all remonstrances, shut the door of the cathedral, and 
proceeded to barricade it with iron bars.^ A loud 
knockhig was heard from the terrified band without, 
who, having vainly endeavored to prevent the entrance 
of the knights into the cloister, now rushed before 
them to take refuge in the church." Becket, who had 
stepped some paces into the cathedral, but was resist- 
ing the solicitations of those immediately about him 
to move up into the choir for safety, darted back, call- 
ing aloud as he went, " Away, you cowards ! By virtue 
of your obedience I command you not to shut the door ; 
the church must not be turned into a castle." ^ With 

1 Garnier, 71, 10. 2 Qervase, Acta Pont., 1672. 

3 Garnier, 71, 12. * Foss's Judges, i. 243. 

5 Fitzstephen, i. 300. « Herbert, 331 ; Benedict, 65. 

■^ Anon. Lambeth, 121. Herbert (331) describes the knocking, but 
mistakingly supposes it to be tlie knights. 
8 Garnier, 71, 24. This speech occurs in all. 



100 ENTRANCE OF THE KNIGHTS. [1170. 

his own hands he thrust them away from tlie door, 
opened it himself, and catching hokl of the exchided 
monks, dragged them into the building, exclaiming, 
"Come in, come in, — faster, faster I"^ 

At this moment the ecclesiastics who had liitherto 
clung round him fled in every direction, — some to the 
altars in the numerous side chapels, some to the secret 
chambers with which the walls and roof of the cathe- 
dral are filled. One of them has had the rashness to 
leave on record his own excessive terror.^ Even John 
of Salisbury, his tried and faithful counsellor, escaped 
with the rest Three only remained, — Eobert, Canon 
of Merton, his old instructor ; William Fitzstephen (if 
we may believe his own account), his lively and 
worldly-minded chaplain ; and Edward Grim, the Saxon 
monk.^ William, one of the monks of Canterbury, 
who has recorded his impressions of the scene, con- 
fesses that he fled with the rest. He was not ready 
to confront martyrdom, and with clasped hands ran as 
fast as he could up the steps.* Two hiding-places had 
been specially pointed out to the Archbishop. One 
was the venerable crypt of the church, with its many 
dark recesses and chapels, to which a door then as now 
opened immediately from the spot where he stood ; the 
other was the Chapel of St. Blaise in the roof, itself 
communicating by a gallery with the triforium of the 
cathedral, to which there was a ready access through 
a staircase cut in the thickness of the wall at the cor- 
ner of the transept.^ But he positively refused. One 
last resource remained to the stanch companions who 

i Benedict, 65. 

- William of Canterbury (in the Winchester MS.). 

3 Fitzstephen, i. 301. 

* Will. Cant., published in " Archajologia Cantiana," vi. 42. 

5 Fitzstephen, i. 301. 



1170.] TRANSEPT OF "THE MARTYRDOM." 101 

Stood by him. They urged him to ascend to the choir, 
and hurried him, still resisting, up one of the two flights 
of steps which led thither.^ They no doubt considered 
that the greater sacredness of that portion of the church 
would form their best protection. Becket seems to have 
given way, as in leaving the palace, from the thought 
flashing across his mind that he would die at his post. 
He would go (such at least was the impression left on 
their minds) to the high altar, and perish in the Patri- 
archal Chair, in which he and all his predecessors from 
time immemorial had been enthroned.^ But this was 
not to be. 

What has taken long to describe must have been com- 
pressed in action within a few minutes. The knights, 
who had been checked for a moment by the sight of 
the closed door, on seeing it unexpectedly thrown open, 
rushed into the church. It was, we must remember, 
about five o'clock in a winter evening ; ^ the shades of 
night were gathering, and were deepened into a still 
darker gloom within the high and massive walls of 
the vast cathedral, which was only illuminated here 
and there by the solitary lamps burning before the 
altars. The twilight,* lengthening from the shortest 
day a fortnight before, was but just sufficient to reveal 
the outline of objects. The transept^ in which the 
knights found themselves is the same as that which, 

1 Roger, 166. 

2 Anon. Lambeth, 121 ; Gervase's Chronicle, 1443. 

3 " Nox longissima instabat." — Fitzstephen, i. 301. 

* The 29th of December of that year corresponded (by the change 
of style) to our 4th of January. 
^ Gamier, 74, 1 1 : — 

" Pur I'iglise del nort e en I'ele del nort, 
Envers le nort suffri li bous sainz Thomas mort." 

For the ancient arrangements of " the martyrdom," see Willis's Ac- 



102 TRANSEPT OF "THE MARTYRDOM." [1170. 

though with considerable changes in its arrangements, 
is still known by its ancient name of " The Martyrdom." 
Two staircases led from it, — one from the east to the 
northern aisle, one on the west to the entrance of the 
choir. At its southwest corner, where it joined the nave, 
was the little chapel and altar of the Virgin, the especial 
patroness of the Archbishop. Its eastern apse was 
formed by two chapels, raised one above the other ; the 
upper in the roof, containing the relics of Saint Blaise, 
the first martyr whose bones had been brought into the 
church and which gave to the chapel a peculiar sanctity ; 
the lower containing^ the altar of St. Benedict, under 
whose rule from the time of Dunstan the monastery had 
been placed. Before and around this altar were the tombs 
of four Saxon and two Norman Archbishops. In the 
centre of the transept was a pillar, supporting a gallery 
leading to the Chapel of St. Blaise,^ and hung at great 
festivals with curtains and draperies. Such was the 
outward aspect, and such the associations, of the scene 
which now, perhaps, opened for the first time on the four 
soldiers. But the darkness, coupled with the eagerness 
to find their victim, would have prevented them from 
noticing anything more than its prominent features. 

couut of Canterbury Cathedral, pp. 18, 40, 71, 96. The chief changes 
since that time are : — 

(1 ) The removal of the Lady Chapel in the Nave. 

(2) Tlie removal of the central pillar. 

(.3) The enlargement of the Chapel of St. Benedict. 

(4) The removal of the Chapel of St. Blaise. 

(5) The removal of the eastern staircase. 

In the last two points a parallel to the old arrangement may still 
be found in the southern transept. 

1 It may be mentioned, as an instance of Hume's well-known in- 
accuracy, tiiat he represents Becket as taking refuge " in the church 
of St. Benedict," evidently thinking, if he thought at all, tliat it was 
a parish church dedicated to that saint. 

■- Garnier, 72-79, 6; Willis's Canterbury Cathedral, p. 47. 



1170.] MEETING OF KNIGHTS AND ARCHBISHOP. 103 

At the moment of their entrance the central pillar 
exactly intercepted their view of the Archbishop as- 
cending (as would appear from this circumstance) the 
eastern staircase.^ Fitzurse, with his drawn sword 
iu one hand, and the carpenter's axe in the other, 
sprang in first, and turned at once to the right of the 
pillar. The other three went round it to the left. In 
the dim twilight they could just discern a group of fig- 
ures mounting the steps.^ One of the knights called 
out to them, "Stay!" Another, "Where is Thomas 
Becket, traitor to the king ? " No answer was returned. 
None could have been expected by any who remem- 
bered the indignant silence with which Becket had 
swept by when the same word had been applied by 
Randulf de Broc, at Northampton.^ Fitzurse rushed 
forward, and stumbling against one of the monks on 
the lower step,* still not able to distinguish clearly in 
the darkness, exclaimed, " Where is the Archbishop ? " 
Instantly the answer came : " Eeginald, here I am, — no 
traitor, but the Archbishop and Priest of God ; what 
do you wish ? " ^ and from the fourth step,^ which he 
had reached in his ascent, with a slight motion of his 
head, — noticed apparently as his peculiar manner in 
moments of excitement," — Becket descended to the 
transept. Attired, we are told, in his white rochet,^ 
with a cloak and hood thrown over his shoulders, he thus 
suddenly confronted his assailants. Fitzurse sprang 
back two or three paces, and Becket passing ^ by him 

1 Gamier, 72, 10. 2 Qarnier, 72, 11. 

3 Roger, 142. * Gamier, 72, 14. 

s Gervase, Acta Pont., 1672; Gamier, 72, 15. 
fi Gervase, Acta Pont., 1673. 

7 As in his interview with the Abbot of St. Albans at Harrow. See 
p. 74. 

•^ Grandison, c. 9. « Grim, 75; Roger, 166. 



104 THE STRUGGLE. [1170. 

took up his station between the central pillar ^ and the 
massive wall which still forms the southwest corner of 
what was then the Chapel of St. Benedict.^ Here they 
gathered round him, with the cry, " Absolve the bishops 
whom you have excommunicated." " I cannot do other 
than I have done," he replied; and turning^ to Fitzurse, 
he added, " Keginald, you have received many favors at 
my hands ; why do you come into my church armed ? " 
Fitzurse planted the axe against his breast, and returned 
for answer, " You shall die; I will tear out your heart.""* 
Another, perhaps in kindness, striking him between the 
shoulders with the fiat of his sword, exclaimed, " Fly ; 
you are a dead man." ^ "I am ready to die," replied 
the Primate, " for God and the Church ; but I warn you, 
I curse you in tlie name of God Almighty, if you do not 
let my men escape."^ 

The well-known horror which in that age was felt at 
an act of sacrilege, together with the sight of the crowds 
who were "' rushing in from the town through the nave, 
turned their efforts for the next few moments to carry 
him out of the church.^ Fitzurse threw down the 
axe,^ and tried to drag him out by the collar of his long 
cloak,io calling, " Come with us ; you are our prisoner." 
" I will not fly, you detestable fellow !" ^^ was Becket's 
reply, roused to his usual vehemence, and wrenching 

I Roger, 166. 

- Willis's Canterbury Cathedral, p. 41. It was afterwards preserved 
purposely. 

3 Garnier, 72, 20. 

4 Grim, 79; Anon. Pa.ssio Quinta, 176. 

5 Grim, 75, 76; Roger, 166. 

6 Herbert, 338; Garnier, 72, 25; Fitzstephen, i. 302; Grim, 76; 
Roger, 166. '' Anon. Lamb., 122 ; Fitzstephen, i. 302. 

* Grim, 76; Roger, 166. 

9 Fitzstephen, i. .302 ; Benedict, 88. i^ Garnier, 72, 20, .30. 

II " Vir abominabilis." — Gervase, Acta Pont., 1073. 



1170] THE STRUGGLE. 105 

the cloak out of Fitzurse's grasp.^ The three knights, 
to whom was now added Hugh Mauclerc, chaplain of 
Eobert de Broc,^ struggled violently to put him on 
Tracy's shoulders.^ Becket set his back against the 
pillar,* and resisted with all his might ; whilst Grim,^ 
vehemently remonstrating, threw his arms around him 
to aid his efforts. In the scuflle Becket fastened upon 
Tracy, shook him by his coat of mail, and exerting his 
great strength, flung him down on the pavement.^ It 
was hopeless to carry on the attempt to remove him ; 
and in the final struggle which now began, Fitzurse, 
as before, took the lead. But as he approached with 
his drawn sword, the sicjht of him kindled afresh the 
Archbishop's anger, now heated by the fray ; the spirit 
of the chancellor rose within him, and with a coarse "* 
epithet, not calculated to turn away his adversary's 
wrath, he exclaimed, " You profligate wretch, you are 
my man, — you have done me fealty, — you ought not 
to touch nie ! " ^ Fitzurse, glowing all over with rage, 

1 Gamier, 73, 21. 

2 Roger, 166; Garuier, 71. 
8 Roser, 166. 

* Garnier, 72, 73, 5 ; Grim, 75. 

s Fitzstepheu, i. 302 ; Garnier, 73, 6. 

» Benedict, 66; Roger, 166; Gervase, Acta Pont., 1173; Herbert, 
331 ; Garnier, 72, 30. All but Herbert and Garuier believe this to 
have been Fitzurse ; but the reference of Herbert to Tracy's confession 
is decisive. 

^ "Lenonem appellans." — Roger, 167; Grim, 66. It is this part 
of the narrative tliat was so ingeniously, and, it must be confessed, not 
altogether without justice, selected as the ground of the official account 
of Becket's death, published by King Henry VIII., and representing 
him as having fallen in a scuffle with the knights, in which he and they 
were equally aggressors. The violence of Becket's language was well 
known. His usual name for Geoffrey Riddell, Arrhdraron of Canter- 
bury, was Archdvvil. Anselm, the king's brother, he called a "cata- 
mite and bastard." 

8 Grim, 66. 



106 THE MURDER. [1170. 

retorted, " I owe you no fealty or homage, contrary to 
my fealty to the king ; " ^ and waving the sword over 
his head cried, " Strike, strike ! " {Fercz, fercz !) but 
merely dashed off his cap. The Archbishop covered 
his eyes with his joined hands, bent his neck, and said,^ 
" 1 commend my cause and the cause of the Church to 
God, to Saint Denys the martyr of France, to Saint 
Alfege, and to the saints of the Church." Meanwhile 
Tracy, who since his fall had thrown off his hauberk ^ 
to move more easily, sprang forward, and struck a more 
decided blow, (irim, who up to this moment had his 
arm round Becket, threw it up, wrapped in a cloak, to 
intercept the blade, Becket exclaiming, " Spare this de- 
fence ! " The sword lighted on the arm of the monk, 
which fell wounded or broken ; * and he fled disabled to 
the nearest altar,^ probably that of St. Benedict within 
the chapel. It is a proof of the confusion of the scene, 
that Grim, the receiver of the blow, as well as most of the 

1 Grim, 66; Roger, 167; Gamier, 73, 11. 

'^ Garuier, 73, 25. These are in several of the accounts made his 
last words (Roger, 167 ; Alan, 336, and Addit. to John of Salisbury, 
376) ; but this is doubtless the moment when they were spoken. 

^ Garnier, 73, 1. 

* Garuier, 73, 18. The words in which this act is described in 
almost all the chronicles have given rise to a curious mistake : " Bra- 
chium Edwardi G vim fere abseidit." By running together tliese two 
words, later writers have produced the name of " Grimfere." Many 
similar coufusious will occur to classical scholars. lu most of the 
mediisval pictures of the murder, Grim is i-epreseuted as the cross- 
bearer, which is an error. Grandison alone speaks of Grim " cum 
cruce." The acting cross-bearer, Henry of Auxerre, had doubtless 
fled. Another error respecting Grim has been propagated in much 
later times by Thierry, who, for the sake of supporting his theory 
that Becket's cause was tliat of the Saxons against the Normans, 
represents him as remonstrating against the Primate's acquiescence in 
the Constitutions of Clarendon. The real cross-bearer, who so remon- 
strated (Alan of Tewkesbury, i. 340), was uot a Saxon, but a Welsh- 
man (see Robertson, 335). 

5 Will. Cant., 32. 



1170] THE MURDER. 107 

narrators, believed it to liave been dealt by Fitzurse, 
while Tracy, who is known to have been ^ the man from 
his subsequent boast, believed that the monk whom he 
had wounded was John of Salisbury. The spent force of 
the stroke descended on Becket's head, grazed the crown, 
and finally rested on his left shoulder,^ cutting through 
the clothes and skin. The next blow, whether struck 
by Tracy or Fitzurse, was only with the fiat of the 
sword, and again on the bleeding head,^ which Becket 
drew back as if stunned, and then raised his clasped 
hands above it. The blood from the first blow was 
trickling down his face in a thin streak ; he wiped it 
with his arm, and when he saw the stain, he said, " Into 
thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit." At the 
third blow, which was also from Tracy, he sank on his 
knees, — his arms falling, but his hands still joined as 
if in prayer. With his face turned towards the altar 
of St. Benedict, he murmured in a low voice, — which 
might just have been caught by the wounded Grim,"* 
who was crouching close by, and who alone reports the 
words, — "For the name of Jesus, and the defence of 
the Church, I am willing to die." Without moving 
hand or foot,^ he fell fiat on his face as he spoke, in 
front of the corner wall of the chapel, and with such 
dignity that his mantle, which extended from head to 
foot, was not disarranged. In this posture he received 
from Pilchard the Breton a tremendous blow, accom- 
panied with the exclamation (in allusion to a quarrel 
of Becket with Prince William), " Take this for love of 
my Lord William, brother of the king ! " *^ The stroke 

1 Will. Cant , 33; Fitzstephen, i. 302; Gamier, 73, 17. 

2 Gamier 73, 8. 3 will. Cant., 32 ; Grim, 66 
* Grim, 66. 5 Qervase's Chrouicle, 2466. 
6 Fitzstephen, i. 303 



108 THE MURDER. [1170. 

was aimed with such violence that the scalp or crown 
of the head ^ — which, it was remarked, was of unusual 
size — was severed from the skull, and the sword 
snapped in two on the marble pavement.^ The fracture 
of the murderous weapon was reported by one of the 
eyewitnesses as a presage of the ultimate discomfiture 
of the Archbishop's enemies.^ Hugh of Horsea, the 

1 Grim, 77; Roger, 167; Passio Quinta, 177. Great stress was 
laid ou this, as having been the part of his head which had received 
the sacred oil. (John of Salisbury, 376.) There was a dream, by 
which he was said to have been troubled at Pontigny, — curious, as in 
some respects so singularly unlike, in others so singularly like, his 
actual fate. He was at Rome, pleading his cause before the Pope and 
cardinals ; the adverse cardinals rushed at him with a shout that 
drowned the remonstrances of the Pope, and tried to pluck out his eyes 
with tlieir fingers, then vanished, and were succeeded by a band of 
savage men, who struck off his scalp, so that it fell over his forehead. 
(Grim, 58.) 

2 Benedict, GG. For the pavement being marble, see Benedict, 66, 
and Gamier, 79, 19. Barouius (vol. xix. p. 379) calls it"lapideum 
pavimentum." A spot is still shown iu Canterbury Cathedral, with a 
square piece of stone said to have been inserted in the stone pavement 
in the place of a portion taken out and sent to Rome. That the spot 
so marked is j^recisely the place wliere Bucket fell, is proved by its 
exact accordance with the localities so minutely described in the several 
narratives. But whether the tiagstoues now remaining are really the 
same, must remain in doubt. The piece said to have been sent to 
Rome, I ascertained, after diligent inquiry, to be no longer in existence ; 
and Mr. Robertson has clearly pointed out that the passage quoted, iu 
earlier editions of this work, from Barouius (vol. xix. p. 371) in proof 
of the story, has no bearing upon it ; and also that the tradition re- 
specting it at Canterbury cannot be traced be3'ond the beginning of 
this century. Another story states that Benedict, when appointed 
Abbot of Peterborough in 1177, being vexed at finding that his pre- 
decessor had pawned or sold the relics of the abbey, returned to Can- 
terbury, and carried off, amongst other memorials of Saint Thomas, 
the stones of the pavement which had been sprinkled with his blood, 
and had two altars made from them for Peterborough Cathedral. Still, 
as the wliole floor must have been flooded, he may have removed only 
those adjacent to the flagstone from which the piece was taken, — a sup- 
position with which tlie present appearance of the flagstone remark- 
ably corresponds. 

3 Will. Cant. (Arch. Cant., vi. 42). 




H i iiii tiw iiii ii'1% ' 



The Tiansi'pt of the Martyrdom. 



1170.] THE MURDER. 109 

subdeacon who had joined them as they entered the 
church,^ taunted by the others with having taken no 
share in the deed, planted his foot on the neck of tlie 
corpse, thrust his sword into the ghastly wound, and 
scattered the brains over the pavement. " Let us go, 
let us go," he said, in conclusion. " The traitor is dead ; 
he will rise no more." ^ 

This was the final act. One only of the four knights 
had struck no blow. Hugh de Moreville throughout 
retained the gentler disposition for which he was dis- 
tinguished, and contented himself with holding back 
at the entrance of the transept the crowds who were 
pouring in through the nave.^ 

The murderers rushed out of the church, through 
the cloisters, into the palace Tracy, in a confession 
made long afterwards to Bartholomew, Bishop of Exeter 
said that their spirits, which had before l^een raised to 
the highest pitch of excitement, gave way when the 
deed was perpetrated, and that they retired with trem- 
bling steps, expecting the earth to open and swallow 
them up.^ Such, however, was not their outward de- 
meanor, as it was recollected by the monks of the place. 
With a savage burst of triumph they ran, shouting, as 
if in battle, the watchword of the kings of England,^ 
" The king's men, the king's men ! " wounding, as 
they went, a servant of the Archdeacon of Sens for 
lamenting the murdered prelate.*^ Eobert de Broc, as 

1 Benedict (66) ascribes this to Brito ; tlie anonymous Passio 
Quinta (177) to Fitzurse ; Herbert (345) and Grandison (iv. 1) to 
Robert de Broc; the rest to Maucleri'. 

2 Fitzstephen, i. 30.3 ; Roger, 268 ; Benedict, 67 ; Gamier, 74, 25. 

3 Roger, 108 ; Grim, 77 ; Gamier, 74, 11. 

4 Herbert, 351 ; Grandison, c. 9. 

5 Gamier, 74, 1 ; Grim, 79 ; Roger, 168 ; Fitzstephen, i. 305. 

6 Fitzstephen, i 305. See Ducauge in voce; Robertson, p. 282. 



110 PLUNDER OF THE PALACE. [1170. 

knowing tlie palace, had gone before to take possession 
of the private apartments. There they broke open the 
bags and coffers, and seized many papal bulls, charters,^ 
and other documents, which Kandulf de I>roc sent 
to the king. They then traversed the whole of the 
palace, plundering gold and silver vases,^ the magnifi- 
cent vestments and utensils employed in the services 
of the church, the furniture and books of the chap- 
lains' rooms, and, lastly, the horses from the stables, on 
which Becket had prided himself to the last, and on 
which they rode off.^ The amount of plunder was esti- 
mated by Fitzstephen at two thousand marks. To their 
great surprise they found two haircloths among the ef- 
fects of the Archbishop, and threw them away. As the 
murderers left the cathedral, a tremendous storm of 
thunder and rain burst over Canterbury, and the night 
fell in thick darkness ^ upon the scene of the dreadful 
deed. 

The crowd was every instant increased by the multi- 
tudes flocking in from the town on the tidings of the 
event. There was still at that moment, as in his life- 
time, a strong division of feeling ; and Grim overheard 
even one of the monks declare that the Primate had 
paid a just penalty for his obstinacy,^ and was not to 
be lamented as a martyr. Others said, " He wished 
to be king, and more than king ; let him be king, let 
him be king ! ''' ^ Whatever horror was expressed, was 
felt (as in the life-long remorse of Eobert Bruce for 
the slaughter of the Bed Comyn in the church of Dum- 
fries) not at the murder, but at the sacrilege. 

At last, however, the cathedral was cleared, and the 

1 Garnier, 74, 5. ^ Eitzstepheu, i. 30.5. 

3 Herbert, 352. < Fitzstephen, i. 304. 

5 Grim, 79, 80. ^ Benedict, 67. 



1170.] THE DEAD BODY. Ill 

gates shut ; ^ and for a time the body lay enth-ely 
deserted. It was not till the night had quite closed 
in, that Osbert, the chamberlain^ of the Archbishop, 
entering with a light, found the corpse lying on its 
face,^ the scalp hanging by a piece of skin : he cut off 
a piece of his shirt to bind up the frightful gash. The 
doors of the cathedral were again opened, and the 
monks returned to the spot. Then, for the first time, 
they ventured to give way to their grief, and a loud 
lamentation resounded through the stillness of the 
night. When they turned the body with its face 
upwards, all were struck by the calmness and beauty 
of the countenance : a smile still seemed to play on 
the features, the color on the cheeks was fresh, and 
the eyes were closed as if in sleep.* The top of the 
head, wound round with Osbert's shirt, was bathed in 
Idood, but the face was marked only by one faint streak 
that crossed the nose from the right temple to the left 
cheek.^ Underneath the body they found the axe 
which Fitzurse had thrown down, and a small iron 
hammer, brought apparently to force open the door ; 
close by were lying the two fragments of Le Bret's 
broken sword, and the Archbishop's cap, which had 
been struck off in the beginning of the fray. All these 
they carefully preserved. The blood, which with the 
brains was scattered over the pavement, they collected 
and placed in vessels ; and as the enthusiasm of the 
hour increased, the bystanders, wlio already began to 

1 Eoger, 169. 2 Fitzstephen, i. 305. 

3 Grandison, iv. 1. 

* Will. Cant., 33. The same appearances are described on the 
subsequent morning, in Herbert, 3.58 ; Grandison, c. 9. 

5 Benedict, 68; or (as Robert of Gloucester states it), "from the 
left half of his forehead to the left half of his chin." Bv this mark 
the subsequent apparitions of Becket Avere often recognized. 



112 DISCOVERY OF THE HAIRCLOTH [1170. 

esteem him a martyr, cut off pieces of their clothes 
to dip in the blood, and anointed their eyes with it. 
The cloak and outer pelisse, which were rich with san- 
guinary stains, were given to the poor, — a proof of the 
imperfect apprehension as yet entertained of the value 
of these relics, which a few years afterwards would 
have been literally worth their weight in gold, and 
which were now sold for some trifling sum.^ 

After tying up the head with clean linen, and fasten- 
ing the cap over it, they placed the body on a bier, and 
carried it up the successive flights of steps which led 
from the transept through the choir — " the glorious 
choir," as it was called, " of Conrad " — to the high 
altar in front of which they laid it down. The night 
was now far advanced, but the choir was usually 
lighted — and probably, therefore, on this great occa- 
sion — by a chandelier with twenty-four wax tapers. 
Vessels were placed underneath the body to catch any 
drops of blood that might fan,^ and the monks sat 
around weeping.^ The aged Eobert, Canon of Merton, 
the earliest friend and instructor of Becket, and one of 
the three who had remained with him to the last, con- 
soled them by a narration of the austere life of the 
martyred prelate, which hitherto had been known only 
to himself, as the confessor of the Primate, and to 
Brun the valet.* In proof of it he thrust his hand 
under the garments, and showed the monk's habit and 
haircloth shirt, which he wore next to his skin. This 
was the one thing wanted to raise the enthusiasm of 
the bystanders to the highest pitch. Up to that mo- 
ment there had been a jealousy of the elevation of the 
gay chancellor to the archbishopric of Canterbury. 

1 Benedict, 68. - Benedict, 69. 

3 Roger, 168. * Fitzstephen, i. 308. 



1170.] DISCOVERY OF THE HAIRCLOTH. 113 

The primacy involved the abbacy of the cathedral mon- 
astery ; and the primates therefore had been, with two 
exceptions, always chosen from some monastic society. 
The fate of these two had, we are told, weighed heavily 
on PJecket's mind. One was Stigand, the last Saxon 
Archbishop, who ended his life in a dungeon, after the 
Conquest ; the other was Elsey, who had been appointed 
in opposition to Dunstan, and who after having tri- 
umphed over his predecessor Odo by dancing on his 
grave was overtaken by a violent snow storm in pass- 
ing the Alps, and in spite of the attempts to resuscitate 
him by plunging his feet in the bowels of his horse, 
was miserably frozen to death. Becket himself, it was 
believed, had immediately after his consecration re- 
ceived, from a mysterious ^ apparition, an awful warn- 
ing against appearing in the choir of the cathedral 
in his secular dress as chancellor. It now for the first 
time appeared that, though not formerly a monk, he 
had virtually become one by his secret austerities. 
The transport of the fraternity, on finding that he had 
been one of themselves, was beyond all bounds. They 
burst at once into thanksgivings, which resounded 
through the choir ; fell on their knees ; kissed the 
hands and feet of the corpse, and called him by the 
name of " Saint Thomas," ^ by which, from that time 
forward, he was so long known to the European world. 
At the sound of the shout of joy there was a general 
rush to the choir, to see the saint in sackcloth who had 
hitherto been known as the chancellor in purple and 
fine linen.^ A new enthusiasm was kindled by the 

1 Grim, 16. Another version, current after his death, represented 
him as having secretly assumed the monastic dress on the day of his 
consecration. (Ant. Cant., vii. 213.) 

2 Fitzstephen, i. 308. 

8 Ibid. ; Gervase's Chronicle, 1416. 



114 THE AURORA BOREALIS. [1170. 

spectacle. Arnold, a monk, who was goldsmith to the 
monastery, was sent back, with others, to the transept 
to collect in a basin any vestiges of the blood and 
brains, now become so precious ; and benches were 
placed across the spot, to prevent its being desecrated 
by the footsteps of the crowd.^ This perhaps was the 
moment when the great ardor of the citizens first began 
for washing their hands and eyes with tlie blood. One 
instance of its application gave rise to a practice which 
became the distinguishing characteristic of all the sub- 
sequent pilgrimages to the shrine. A citizen of Canter- 
bury dipped a corner of his shirt in the blood, went 
home, and gave it, mixed in water, to his wife, who was 
paralytic, and who was said to have been cured. This 
suggested the notion of mixing the blood with water, 
which, endlessly diluted, was kept in innumerable vials, 
to be distributed to the pilgrims ; ^ and thus, as the 
palm ^ was a sign of a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and a 
scallop-shell of the pilgrimage to Compostela, so a 
leaden vial or bottle suspended from the neck became 
the mark of a pilgrimage to Canterbury. 

[Dec. 30.] Thus passed the night ; and it is not 
surprising that in the red glare of an aurora borealis,* 
which after the stormy evening, lighted up the mid- 
night sky, the excited populace, like that at Piome 
after the murder of Eossi, should fancy that they saw 
the blood of the martyr go up to heaven ; or that, as 
the wax lights sank down in the cathedral, and the 
first streaks of the gray winter morning broke through 
the stained windows of Conrad's choir, the monks who 
sat round the corpse should imagine that the right arm 

1 Fitzstephen, i. 308. 2 11,;^.^ 309. 

3 Giiriiier, 78, 16; Anon. Lambeth, p. 134. 
^ ritzstepheu, i. 304. 



1170] UNWRAPPING OF THE CORPSE. 115 

of the dead man was slowly raised in the sign of the 
cross, as if to bless his faithful followers.^ 

Early in the next day a rumor or message came to 
the monks that Eobert de Broc forbade them to bury 
the body among the tombs of the Archbishops, and that 
he threatened to drag it out, hang it on a gibbet, tear 
it with horses, cut it to pieces,^ or throw it in some 
pond or sink to be devoured by swine or birds of prey, 
as a fit portion for the corpse of his master's enemy. 
'■ Had Saint Peter so dealt with the king," he said, " by 
the body of Saint Denys, if I had been there, I would 
have driven my sword into his skull." ^ They accord- 
ingly closed'* the doors, which apparently had remained 
open through the night to admit the populace, and 
determined to bury the corpse in the crypt. Thither 
they carried it, and in that venerable vault proceeded 
to their mournful task, assisted by the Abbot of Box- 
ley and the Prior of Dover,^ who had come to advise 
with the Archbishop about the vacancy of the Priory 
at Canterbury.^ A discussion seems to have taken 
place whether the body should be washed, according 
to the usual custom, which ended in their removing 
the clothes for the purpose. The mass of garments in 
which he was wrapped is almost incredible, and appears 
to have been worn chiefly for the sake of warmth and 
in consequence of his naturally chilly temperament.' 

1 Anon. Passio Tertia, 1 56 ; Hoveden, 299. 

2 Fitzsteplien, i. 309 ; Anon. Lambeth, p. 134 ; Benedict, 69 ; Roger, 
168; Herbert, 327 ; Grim, 81 ; Garnier, 76, 1. 

3 Garnier, 76, 7. 

* Gervase's Chronicle, 1417. 

5 The Prior of Dover was no less a person than Richard, the Arch- 
bishop's chaplain, and his successor in the primacy. (Matt. Paris, 127 ; 
Vit. Abb. St. A., 16, 91.) 

*> Fitzstephen, i. 309. "^ Garnier, 77, 1. 



116 DISCOVERY OF THE YERxMIN. [1170. 

First, there was the large brown mantle, with white 
fringes of wool ; below this there was a white surplice, 
and again below this a white fur garment of lamb's 
wool. Next these, were two short woollen pelisses, 
which were cut off with knives and given aw\ay ; and 
under these the black cowled garment of the Benedic- 
tine order 1 and the shirt ^ without sleeves or fringe, that 
it might not be visible on the outside. The lowermost 
covering was the haircloth, which had been made of 
unusual roughness, and within the haircloth was a 
warning letter^ he had received on the night of the 
27th. The existence of the austere garb had been 
pointed out on the previous night by Robert of ]\lerton ; 
but as they proceeded in their task their admiration in- 
creased. The haircloth encased the whole body, down 
to the knees ; the hair drawers,'^ as well as the rest of 
the dress, being covered on the outside with white linen 
so as to escape observation ; and the whole so fastened 
together as to admit of being readily taken off" for his 
daily scourgings, of which yesterday's portion was still 
apparent in the stripes on his body.^ The austerity of 
hair drawers, close fitted as they were to the bare flesh, 
had hitherto been unknown to English saints ; and the 
marvel was increased by the sight ^ — to our notions 
so revolting — of the innumerable vermin with which 
the haircloth abounded ; boiling over with them, as 
one account describes it, like water " in a simmering 
caldron. At the dreadful sight all the enthusiasm of 

1 Matt. Paris, 104. 

2 Gamier, 77; Herbert, 330. 

3 Fitzsteplien, i. 203; Roger, 169; Benedict, 20. 
* Garnier, 77, 40. 

5 Anon. Passio Tertia, 156. 

6 Roger, 169 ; Fitzstephen, i. 309. 
■^ Passio Quiuta, 161. 



1170] BURIAL IN THE CRYPT. 117 

the previous night revived with double ardor. They 
looked at one another in silent wonder ; then exclaimed, 
"See, see what a true monk he was, and we knew it 
not ; " and burst into alternate fits of weeping and 
laughter, between the sorrow of having lost such a head 
and the joy of having found such a saint.^ The dis- 
covery of so much mortification, combined with the more 
prudential reasons for hastening the funeral, induced 
them to abandon the thought of washing a corpse al- 
ready, as it was thought, sufficiently sanctified, and they 
at once proceeded to lay it out for burial. 

Over the haircloth, linen shirt, monk's cowl, and 
linen hose,^ they put first the dress in which he was 
consecrated, and which he had himself desired to be 
preserved,^ — namely, the alb, super-humeral, chris- 
matic, mitre, stole, and maniple ; and over these, accord- 
ing to the usual custom in archiepiscopal funerals, the 
Archbishop's insignia, — namely, the tunic, dalmatic, 
chasuble, the pall with its pins, the chalice, the gloves, 
tlie rings, the sandals, and the pastoral staff,'* — all of 
which, being probably kept in the treasury of the cathe- 
dral, were accessible at the moment. The ring which 
he actually wore at the time of his death, with a green 
gem ^ set in it, was taken off. Thus arrayed, he was 
laid by the monks in a new marble sarcophagus ^ which 
stood in the ancient crypt,'^ at the back of the shrine 
of the Virgin, between the altars of St. Augustine and 

1 Roger, 169 ; Gamier, 77, .30. 

2 Fitzstephen; Benedict, 70 ; Matt. Paris, 124. 

3 Fitzstephen, i. 309. * Ibid. 

^ This, with a knife and various portions of the dress,, were pre- 
served in the treasury of Glastonbury. (John of Glastonbury, ed. 
Hearn, p. 28.) 

^ Grim, 82; Benedict, 70; Gervase's Chronicle, 1417. 

" Benedict, 70; Diceto (Addit. ad Alan.), 377 ; Matt. Paris, 124. 



118 EE-CONSECRATION OF THE CATHEDRAL. [1171. 

St. John the Baptist,^ — the first Archbishop, as it 
was observed, and the bold opponent of a wicked king. 
The remains of the blood and brains were placed out- 
side the tomb, and the doors of the crypt closed against 
all entrance.^ No Mass was said over the Archbish- 
op's grave ;^ for from the moment that armed men had 
entered, the church was supposed to have been dese- 
crated ; the pavement of the cathedral * was taken up ; 
the bells ceased to ring ; the walls were divested of 
their hangings ; the crucifixes were veiled ; the altars 
stripped, as in Passion Week ; and the services were 
conducted without chanting^ in the chapter-house. 
This desolation continued till the next year, when Odo 
the Prior, with the monks, took advantage of the arrival 
of the Papal legates, who came to make full inquiry 
into the murder, and requested their influence with the 
bishops to procure a re-consecration. The task was 
intrusted ^ to the P)isliops of Exeter and Chester ; and 
on the 21st of December, the Feast of Saint Thomas 
the Apostle, 1171 (the day of Saint Thomas of Canter- 
bury was not yet authorized), Bartholomew, Bishop of 
Exeter, again celebrated Mass, and preached a sermon on 
the text, " For the multitude of the sorrows that I had 
in my heart, thy comforts have refreshed my soul." "^ 

1 Fitzstephen, i. 309; Grandison, c. 9 ; Gervase, Acta Pont., 1673 
(Gervase was present) ; Alan. .339 ; Matt. Paris, 125 ; Gamier, 75. The 
arrangements of this part of the crypt were altered within the next fifty 
years; bnt the spot is still ascertainable, behind the " Chapel of Our 
Lady Undercroft," and underneath what is now the Trinity Chapel. 

2 Gervase's Chronicle, 1417. 

3 Fitzstephen, i. 310 ; Matt. Paris, 125 ; Diceto, 338. 

•1 Diceto (558) speaks of the dirt of the pavement from the crowd 
who trod it with dusty and muddy feet. ]\Iatt. Paris, 126. 

5 Gervase's Chronicle, 1417. 

'' Gervase, 1421. Chester then was the seat of the See of Lichfield. 

'' Matt. Paris, 125. Bartholomew's tomb may be seen in the Lady 
Chapel of Exeter Cathedral. 



1173.] CANONIZATION. 119 

Within three years the popular enthusiasm was con- 
firmed by the highest authority of the Church. The 
Archbishop of York had, some time after the murder, 
ventured to declare that Becket had perished, like Pha- 
raoh, in his pride, and the Government had endeavored 
to suppress the miracles. But the Papal Court, vacil- 
lating, and often unfriendly in his lifetime, now lent 
itself to confer the highest honors on his martyrdom. ^ 
On the very day of the murder, some of the Canter- 
bury monks had embarked to convey their own version 
of it to the Pope.^ In 1172 legates were sent by Alex- 
ander III. to investigate the alleged miracles, and they 
carried back to Rome the tunic stained with blood, and 
a piece of the pavement on which the brains were 
scattered, — relics which were religiously deposited in 
the Basilica of Sta. Maria Maggiore.^ In 1173 a 
Council was called at Westminster to hear letters read 
from the Pope, authorizing the invocation of the martyr 
as a saint. All the bishops who had opposed him were 
present, and after begging pardon for their offence, ex- 
pressed their acquiescence in the decision of the Pope. 
In the course of the same year, on Ash Wednesday, 
the 21st of February,* he was regularly canonized, and 
the 29th of December was set apart as the Feast of 
Saint Thomas of Canterbury. His sister Mary was ap- 
pointed Abbess of Barking.'^ 

1 Milman's Latin Christianity, iii. 532. 

2 Ant. Cant., vii. 216. 

3 Baronius, xix. 396. A fragment of the tunic, and small blue 
bags said to contain portions of the brain, are still shown in the reli- 
quary of this church. 

* Florence of Worcester, 153. 

5 Matt. Paris, 126. At this council took place, between Eoger of 
York and Richard of Canterbury, the scene already mentioned (p. 
72). Roger nearly lost his life under the sticks and fists of the oppo- 
site ])arty, who shouted out, as he rose from the ground with crushed 



120 ESCAPE OF THE MURDERERS. [1170. 

A wooden altar, which remained unchanged through 
the subsequent alterations and increased magnificence 
of the cathedral, was erected on the site of the murder, 
in front of the ancient stone wall of St. Benedict's 
Chapel. It was this which gave rise to the mistaken 
tradition, repeated in books, in pictures, and in sculp- 
tures, that the Primate was slain whilst praying at the 
altar.^ The crypt in which the body had been lain so 
hastily and secretly became the most sacred spot in the 
church, and, even after the " translation " of the relics 
in 1220, continued to be known down to the time of 
the Eeformation as '•' Becket's Tomb." ^ The subse- 
quent history of those sacred spots must be reserved 
for a separate consideration. 

It remains for us now to follow the fate of the mur- 
derers. [1170. Dec. 30.] On the night of the deed 
the four knights rode to Salt wood, leaving Eobert de 
Broc in possession of the palace, whence, as we have 
seen, he brought or sent the threatening message to 
the monks on the morning of the 30th. They vaunted 
their deeds to each other, and it was then that Tracy 
claimed the glory of having wounded John of Salis- 
bury. [Dec. 31.] The next day they rode forty 
miles by the sea-coast to Soutli-Malling, an archiepis- 
copal manor near Lewes. On entering the house, they 

mitre and torn cope, " Away, away, traitor of Saint Thomas ! thy hands 
still reek with his blood!" (Anglia Sacra, i. 72 ; Gervase, 1433). 

1 The gradual growth of the story is curious. (1) The post- 
humous altar of the martyrdom is represented as standing there at 
the time of his death. (2) This altar is next confounded with the 
altar within the Chapel of St. Benedict. (.3) This altar is again trans- 
formed into the High Altar; and (4) In these successive changes the 
furious altercation is converted into an assault on a meek, unprepared 
worshipper, kneeling before the altar. 

- See Gough's Sepulchral Monuments, i. 26. 



The Crypt. 



1171.] LEGEND OF THEIR DEATHS. 121 

threw off their arms and trappings on the large dining- 
table which stood in the hall, and after supper gathered 
round the blazing hearth ; suddenly the table started 
back, and threw its burden on the ground. The attend- 
ants, roused by the crash, rushed in with lights and 
replaced the arms. But soon a second still louder 
crash was heard, and the various articles were thrown 
still farther off. Soldiers and servants with torches 
searched in vain under the solid table to find the cause 
of its convulsions, till one of the conscience-stricken 
knights suggested that it was indignantly refusing to 
bear the sacrilegious burden of their arms. So ran the 
popular story ; and as late as the fourteenth century it 
was still shown in the same place, — the earliest and 
most memorable instance of a " rapping," " leaping," 
and " turning table." ^ From South-Mailing they pro- 
ceeded to Knaresborough Castle, a royal fortress then 
in the possession of Hugh de Moreville, where they 
remained for a year.^ The local tradition still points 
out the hall where they fled for refuge, and the vaulted 
prison where they were confined after their capture. 

From this moment they disappear for a time in the 
black cloud of legend with which the monastic histori- 
ans have enveloped their memory. Dogs, it was said, 
refused to eat the crumbs that fell from their table.^ 
One of them in a fit of madness killed his own son.* 
Sent by the king to Scotland, they were driven back 
by the Scottish Court to England, and but for the ter- 
ror of Henry's name, would have been hanged on 

1 Grandison, iv. 1. " Mocstratur ibidem ipsa tabula in memoriam 
miraculi couservata." See also Giraldus, iii Whartou's Anglia Sa- 
cra, 425. 

2 Brompton, 1064; Diceto, 557. 

3 Bromptou, 1064 ; Hoveden, 299. 
* Tassio Tertia; Giles, ii. 157. 



122 LEGEND OF THEIR DEATHS. [1171. 

gibbets.^ Struck with remorse, they went to Home to 
receive the sentence of Pope Alexander III., and by 
him were sent to expiate their sins by a miUtary ser- 
vice of fourteen years ^ in the Holy Land. Moreville, 
Fitzurse, and Brito, — so the story continues, — after 
three years' fighting, died, and were buried, according 
to some accounts, in front of the Church of the Holy 
Sepulchre, or of the Templars, at Jerusalem ; according 
to others, in front of the " Church of the Black Moun- 
tain," 3 with an inscription on their graves, — 

" Hie jaceut miseri qui martyrisaveruut 
Beatum Thomain Archiepiscopum Cantuariensera." 

Tracy alone, it was said, was never able to accom- 
plish his vow. The crime of having struck the first 
blow ^ was avenged by the winds of heaven, which al- 
ways drove him back. According to one story, he 
never left England. According to another, and, as we 
shall see, more correct version, he reached the coast of 
Calabria, and was then seized at Cosenza with a dread- 
ful disorder, which caused him to tear his flesh from 
his bones with his own hands, calling, " JMercy, Saint 
Thomas!" and there he died miserably, after having 
made his confession to the bishop of the place. His 

1 Ant. Cant., vii. 218. 

2 Ibid., 219. 

3 Barouius, xix. 399. The legend hardly aims at probahilities. 
The "Church of the Black Mountain" may possibly be a mountain 
so called in Lansuedoc, near the Abbey of St. Papoul. The front of 
the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is, and always must have been, a 
square of public resort to all the pilgrims of the world, where no tombs 
either of murderer or saint could have ever been placed. The Church 
of the Templars was "the Mosque of the Rock," and the front was the 
sacred platform of the sanctuary, — a less impossible place, but still 
very improbable. Nothing of the kind now exists on either spot. 

■* "Primus percussor " — Baronius, xix. 399. See Robert of 
Gloucester, 1301-1321 ; Fuller's Worthies, S.'j?. 



1171.] LEGEND OF THEIR DEATHS. 123 

fate was long remembered among his descendants in 
Gloucestershire, and gave rise to the distich that — 

" The Tracys 
Have always the wind in their face.s." 

Another version of the story, preserved in the tradi- 
tions of Flanders, was as follows. Immediately after 
the murder, they lost all sense of taste and smell. The 
Pope ordered them to wander through the world, never 
sleeping two nights in the same place, till both senses 
were recovered. In their travels they arrived at Co- 
logne ; and when wine was poured out for them in the 
inn, they perceived its taste (sniacke) ; it seemed to them 
sweeter than honey, and they cried out, " blessed 
Cologne!" They went on to Mechlin; and as they 
passed through the town, they met a woman, carrying a 
basket of newly baked bread, — they "found the smell" 
(rueck) of it, and cried, " holy Mechlin ! " Great were 
the benefits heaped by the Pope on these two towns, 
when he heard of it. The brothers (so they are styled 
in the Mechlin tradition) built huts for themselves 
under the walls of the Church of St. Paimold, the pa- 
tron saint of Mechlin, and died there. Over their grave, 
written on the outer wall of the circular Chapel of St. 
Eumold, now destroyed, was the following epitaph : 
Rychardus Brito, nccnon Morialius Hugo; G-uilloelmus 
Trad, Rcginaldus filius Ursi: Tliomain martyrium suh- 
irc fcccre jprimatem} 

Such is the legend. The real facts, so far as we can 
ascertain them, are in some respects curiously at vari- 
ance with it; in other respects, no less curiously con- 
firm it. On the one hand the general fate of the mur- 
derers was far less terrible than the popular tradition 

1 Acta S. Rumoldi Sollerius, Antwerp, 1718 , commuuiuated by 
the kindness of Mr. Kinfj. 



124 THEIR REAL HISTORY. 

delighted to believe. It would seem that, by a sin- 
gular reciprocity, the principle for which Becket liad 
contended — that priests should not be subjected to 
secular courts — prevented the trial of a layman for 
the murder of a priest by any other than by a clerical 
tribunal.^ The consequence was, that the perpetrators 
of what was thought the most heinous crime since the 
Crucifixion could be visited with no other penalty than 
excommunication. That they should have performed 
a pilgrimage to Palestine is in itself not improbable ; 
and one of them, as we shall see, certainly attempted 
it. The Bishops of Exeter and Worcester wrote to 
the Pope, urging the necessity of their punishment, 
but adding that any one who undertook such an office 
would be regarded as an enemy of God and of the 
Church.^ But they seem before long to have re- 
covered their position. The other enemies of Becket 
even rose to high offices, — John of Oxford was made 
within five years Bishop of Norwich ; and Geoffrey 
Kiddell, Becket's " archdevil," within four years Bishop 
of Ely [1173] ; and Pdchard of Ilchester, Archdeacon 
of Poitiers within three years. 

The murderers themselves, within the first two years 
of the murder, were living at court on familiar terms 
with the king, and constantly joined him in the 
pleasures of the chase,^ or else hawking and hunting 
in England.* 

1 Such, at least, seems the most probable explanation. The fact of 
the law is stated, as iu the text, by Speed (p. 511). The law was al- 
tered in 117G (23 H. II.), — that is, seven years from the date of the 
murder, at the time of the final settlement of the Constitutions of Clar- 
endon, between Henry II. and the Papal Legate (Matt. Paris, 132), — 
and from that time slayers of clergy were punished before the Grand 
Justiciary in the presence of the Bishop. 

2 Jolin of Salisbury's Letters (Giles, ii. 273). 

3 Gervase, 1422. ■* Lausdowue MS. (xVut. Cant., vii. 211). 



MOREVILLE; FITZURSE. 125 

Moreville,^ who had been Justice-Itinerant in the 
counties of Northumberland and Cumberland at the 
time of the murder, was discontinued from his office 
the ensuing year ; but in the first year of King John 
he is recorded as paying twenty-five marks and three 
good palfreys for holding his court so long as Helwise 
his wife should continue in a secular habit. He pro- 
cured, about the same period, a charter for a fair and 
market at Kirk Oswald, and died shortly afterwards, 
leaving two daughters.^ The sword which he wore 
during the murder is stated by Camden to have been 
preserved in his time ; and is believed to be the one 
still shown in the hall of Brayton Castle,^ between 
Carlisle and Whitehaven. A cross near the Castle of 
Egremont, which passed into his family, was dedicated 
to Saint Thomas, and the spot where it stood is still 
called St. Thomas's Cross. Fitzurse is said to have 
gone over to Ireland, and there to have become the 
ancestor of the M'Mahon family in the north of Ire- 
land, — M'Mahon being the Celtic translation of Bear's 
son.* On liis flight the estate which he held in the 
Isle of Thanet, Barham or Berham Court, lapsed to 
his kinsman Eobert of Berham, — Berham being, as it 
would seem, the English, as M'Mahon was the Irish, 
version of the name Fitzurse.^ His estate of Willeton, 
in Somersetshire, he made over, — half to the knights 

1 Toss's Judges, i. 279, 280. 

2 Lysons's Cumberland, p. 127. Nichols's Pilgrimage of Erasmus, 
p. 220. He must not be coufouuded with his namesake, the founder 
of Dryburgh Abbey. 

^ Now tlie property of Sir Wilt red Laws(»n, Bart., where I saw it 
in 1856. The sword bears as an inscription, " Gott bewalir die auf- 
richten Schotten." The word " bewahr " proves that the inscription 
(whatever may be the date of the sword) cannot be older than the 
sixteenth century. 

* Fuller's Worthies. s Harris's Kent, 313. 



126 BRET; riTZRANULPH; TRACY. 

of St. John the year after the murder, probably in ex- 
piation ; the other half to his brother Eobert, who built 
the Chapel of Willeton. The descendants of the fam- 
ily lingered for a long time in the neighborhood under 
the same name, — corrupted into Fitzour, Fishour, and 
Fisher.^ The family of Bret, or Brito, was carried on, as 
we shall shortly see, through at least two generations of 
female descendants. The village of Sanford, in Somer- 
setshire, is still called, from the family, "Sanford Brcty^ 

Eobert Fitzranulph, who had followed the four 
knights into the church, retired at that time from the 
shrievalty of Nottingham and Derby, which he had 
held during the six previous years, and is said to have 
founded a priory of Beauchief in expiation of his 
crime.^ But his son William succeeded to the office, 
and was in places of trust about the court till the 
reign of John> Eobert de Broc appears to have had 
the custody of the Castle of Hagenett, or Agenet, in 
East Anglia.^ 

The history of Tracy is the most remarkable of the 
whole. Within four years from the murder he appears 
as Justiciary of Normandy ; he was present at Falaise 
in 1174, when William, King of Scotland, did homage 
to Henry II., and in 1176 was succeeded in his office 
by the Bishop of Winchester.*' This is the last au- 
thentic notice of him. But his name appears long 
subsequently in the somewhat contiicting traditions 
of Gloucestershire and Devonshire, the two counties 
where his chief estates lay. The local histories of the 

1 rollinson's Somersetshire, iii. 487. ^ Ibid., 514. 

^ The tradition is disputed, but without reason, iu Pegge's Beau- 
chief Abbey, p- 34. 

4 Toss's Judges, i. 202. 

5 Rrompton, 1089 ; Gervase, 1426. 

° JS'iehuls's Pilgrimage of Erasmus, p. 221 



TRACY. 127 

former endeavor to identify him in the wars of Jolm 
and of Henry III., as late as 1216 and 1222. But 
even without cutting short his career by any untimely 
end, such longevity as this would ascribe to him — 
bringing him to a good old age of ninety — makes it 
probable that he has been confounded with his son 
or grandson.^ There can be little doubt, however, 
that his family still continues in Gloucestershire. His 
daughter married Sir Gervase de Courtenay ; and it is 
apparently from their son, Oliver de Tracy, who took 
the name of his mother, that the present Lord Wemyss 
and Lord Sudley are both descended. The pedigree, in 
fact, contrary to all received opinions on the suljject of 
judgments on sacrilege, "exhibits a very singular in- 
stance of an estate descending for upwards of seven 
hundred years in the male line of the same family." ^ 
The Devonshire story is more romantic, and probably 
contains more both of truth and of fable. There are 
two points on the coast of Xorth Devon to which local 
tradition has attached his name. One is a huge rent 
or cavern called " Crookhorn " (from a crooked crag 
now washed away) in the dark rocks immediately west 
of Ilfracombe, which is left dry at low water, but filled 
by the tide except for three months in the year. At 
one period within those three months, " Sir William 
Tracy," according to the story of the Ilfracombe boat- 
men, " hid himself for a fortnight immediately after 
the murder, and was fed by his daughter." The other 
and more remarkable spot is Morthoe, a village situ- 
ated a few miles farther west on the same coast, — " the 
height or hold of Morte." In the south transept of 
the parish church of this village, dedicated to Saint 

1 Eudder's Gloucestershire, 776. 

2 Ibid., 770; Britton's Toddington. 



123 TRACY. 

Mary Magdalene, is a tomb, for which the transept has 
evidently been built. On the black marble covering, 
which lies on a freestone base, is an inscription closing 
with the name of " Sir William Tracy, • — The Lord 
have mercy on his soul." This tomb was long sup- 
posed, and is still believed by the inhabitants of the 
village, to contain the remains of the murderer, who 
is further stated to have founded the church. The fe- 
male figures sculptured on the tomb — namely, Saint 
Catherine and Saint Mary Magdalene — are represented 
as his wife and daughter. That this story is fabulous 
has now been clearly proved by documentary evidence, 
as well as by the appearance of the architecture and 
the style of the inscription. The present edifice is of 
the reign of Henry VII. The tomb and transept are 
of the reign of Edward 11. " Sir ^ William Tracy " 
was the rector of the parish, who died and left this 
chantry in 1322 ; and the figure carved on the tomb 
represents him in his sacerdotal vestments, with the 
chalice in his hand. But although there is thus no 
proof that the murderer was buried in the church, and 
although it is possible that the whole story may have 
arisen from the mistake concerning this monument, 
there is still no reason to doubt that in this neighbor- 
hood " he lived a private life, when wind and weather 
turned against him." ^ William of Worcester states 
that he retired to the western parts of England ; and 
this statement is confirmed by tlie well-attested fact of 

1 Ecclesiastical Antiquities of Devonshire, ii. 82. The title "Sir" 
■was the common designation of parish priests. I have here to express 
my obligations to the kindness of the Rev. Charles Crumpe, wlio has 
devoted much labor to prove that the lid of the tomb, though not the 
tomb itself, may have belonged to the grave of the murderer. For 
the reasons above given, I am unable to concur with him. 

2 Polhvliele's Devonshire, i. 480. 



TRACY. 129 

his confession to Bartholomew, Bishop of Exeter. The 
property belonged to the family, and there is an old 
farmhouse, close to the sea-shore, still called Woolla- 
combe Tracy, which is said to mark the spot where he 
lived in banishment. Beneath it, enclosed within black 
jagged headlands, extends Morte Bay. Across the bay 
stretch the Woollacombe Sands, remarkable as being the 
only sands along the north coast, and as presenting a 
pure and driven expanse for some miles. Here, so runs 
the legend, he was banished " to make bundles of the 
sand, and binds [wisps] of the same." ^ 

Besides these floating traditions there are what may 
be called two standing monuments of his connection 
with the murder. One is the Priory of Woodspring, 
near the Bristol Channel, which was founded in 1210 
by William de Courtenay, probably his grandson, in 
honor of the Holy Trinity, the Blessed Virgin, and 
Saint Thomas of Canterbury. To this priory lands 
were bequeathed by Maud the daughter, and Alice the 
granddaughter, of the third murderer, Bret or Brito, in 
the hope, expressed by Alice, that the intercession of 
the glorious martyr might never be wanting to her and 
her children.^ Its ruins still remain under the long 
promontory called, from it, " St. Thomas's Head." In 
the old church of Kewstoke, about three miles from 
"Woodspring, during some repairs in 1852, a wooden 
cup, much decayed, was discovered in a hollow in the 
back of a statue of the Virgin fixed against the north 
wall of the choir. The cup contained a substance 
which was decided to be the dried residuum of blood. 
From the connection of the priory with the murderers 

^ This I heard from the people on the spot. It is of course a mere 
appropriation of a wide-spread story, here suggested by the locality. 
- Collinson's Somersetshire, iii. 487, 543. 

9 



130 TRACY. 

of Becket, and from the fact that the seal of the Prior 
contained a cup or chalice as part of its device, there 
can be little doubt that this ancient cup was thus pre- 
served at the time of the Dissolution, as a valuable 
relic, and that the blood which it contained was that of 
the murdered Primate.^ 

The other memorial of Tracy is still more curious, 
as partially confirming and certainly illustrating the 
legendary account which has been given above of his 
adventure in Calabria. In the archives of Canterbury 
Cathedral a deed exists by which " William de Tracy, 
for the love of God, and the salvation of his own soul 
and his ancestors, and for the love of the blessed 
Thomas Archbishop and Martyr," makes over to the 
Chapter of Canterbury the Manor of Daccombe, for the 
clothing and support of a monk to celebrate Masses 
for the souls of the living and the dead. The deed 
is without date, and it might possibly, therefore, have 
been ascribed to a descendant of Tracy, and not to the 
murderer himself. But its date is fixed by the confir- 
mation of Henry, attested as that confirmation is by 
" Eichard, elect of Winchester," and " Pobert, elect of 
Hereford," to the year 1174 (the only year when 
Henry's presence in England coincided with such a 
conjunction in the two sees).^ The manor of Dac- 
combe, or Dockham, in Devonshire, is still held un- 
der the Chapter of Canterbury, and is thus a present 
witness of the remorse with which Tracy humbly 
begged that, on the scene of his deed of blood, ]\Iasses 

1 Journal of the Archaeological Institute, vi. 400. The cup, or 
rather fragment of tlie cup, is in the niuseixm at Taunton. 

- This deed (which is given in the Appendix to " Becket's Slirine ") 
is slightly mentioned by Lord Lyttelton in his " History of Henry II.," 
iv. 284 ; but he appears not to have seen it, and is ignorant of the cir- 
cumstances which iucoutestably fix the date. 



PICTORIAL REPRESENTATIONS OF THE MURDER. 131 

might be offered, not for himself individually (this, per- 
haps, could hardly have been granted), but as in- 
cluded in the general category of " the living and the 
dead." But, further, this deed is found in company 
with another document, by which it appears that one 
William Thaun, hcforc his cle'paTtiire to the Holy Land 
with his master, made his wife swear to render up to 
the Blessed Thomas and the monks of Canterbury all 
his lands, given to him by his lord, William de Tracy. 
He died on his journey, his widow married again, and 
her second husband prevented her fulfilment of her 
oath ; she, however, survived him, and the lands were 
duly rendered up. From this statement we learn that 
Tracy really did attempt, if not fulfil, a journey to the 
Holy Land. But the attestation of the bequest of 
Tracy himself enables us to identify the story still 
further. One of the witnesses is the Abbot of St. 
Euphemia ; and there can be little doubt that this 
Abbey of St. Euphemia was the celebrated convent of 
that name in Calabria, not twenty miles from Cosenza, 
the very spot where the detention, though not the 
death, of Tracy is thus, as it would appear, justly 
placed by the old story. 

The figures of the murderers may be seen in the rep- 
resentations of the martyrdom, which on walls or in 
painted windows or in ancient frescos have survived 
the attempted extermination of all the monuments of 
the traitor Becket by King Henry VIII. Sometimes 
three, sometimes four, are given, but always so far 
faithful to history that Moreville is stationed aloof 
from the massacre. Two vestiges of such representa- 
tion still remain in Canterbury Cathedral. One is a 
painting on a board, now greatly defaced, at the head 
of the tomb of King Henry IV. It is engraved, though 



132 PICTORIAL REPRESENTATIONS OF THE MURDER. 

not quite correctly, in Carter's " Ancient Sculpture and 
Painting ; " and through the help of the engraving, the 
principal figures can still be dimly discerned.^ There 
is the common mistake of making the Archbishop kneel 
at the altar, and of representing Grim, with his blood- 
stained arm, as the bearer of the cross. The knights 
are carefully distinguished from one another. Bret, 
with boars' heads embroidered on his surcoat, is in the 
act of striking. Tracy appears to have already dealt a 
blow ; and the bloody stains are visible on his sword, to 
mark the " primus ijcrcussor." Fitzurse, with bears on 
his coat, is " stirring the brains " of his victim, holding 
his sword with both hands perpendicularly, thus taking 
the part sometimes ascribed to him, though really be- 
longing to Mauclerc. Moreville, distinguished by iieurs- 
de-lis, stands apart. All of them have beards of the 
style of Henry IV. On the ground lies the bloody 
scalp, or cap, it is difficult to determine which.^ There 

1 A correct copy has now been made by Mr. George Austin, of 
Canterbury. 

2 A much more faithful representation is given in an illuminated 
Psalter in the British Museum (Harl. 1502), undoubtedly of the pe- 
riod, and, as Becket is depicted without the nimbus, probably soon 
after, if not before, the canonization. He is represented in white 
drapery, falling towards the altar. His gray cap is dropping to the 
ground. Fitzurse and Tracy are rightly given with coats of mail up 
to their eyes. Moreville is without helmet or armor ; Fitzurse is 
wounding Grim. A light hangs from the roof. The palace (appar- 
ently), with the town wall, is seen in the distance. There is another 
illumination in the same Psalter, representing the burial. In the 
"Journal of the Archaeological Association," April, 1854, there is a full 
account of a fresco in St. John's Church, Winchester ; in the " Archte- 
ologia " (vol. ix.), of one at Brereton in Cheshire. The widest deviation 
from historical truth is to be found in the modern altar-piece of the 
Church of St. Thomas, which forms the chapel of the English College 
at Rome. The saint is represented in a monastic garb, on his knees 
before the altar of a Roman Basilica; and behind him are the three 
knights, in complete classical costume, brandishing daggers like those 
of the assassins of Caisar. The nearest likeness of the event is in the 



THE KING'S REMORSE. 133 

is, besides, a sculpture over the south porch, where 
Erasmus states that he saw the figures of " the three 
murderers," with their names of " Tusci, Fusci, and 
Berri," ^ underneath. These figures have disappeared ; 
and it is as difficult to imagine where they could have 
stood, as it is to explain the origin of the names they 
bore ; but in the portion which remains, there is a rep- 
resentation of an altar surmounted by a crucifix, placed 
between the figures of Saint John and the Virgin, and 
marked as the altar of the martyrdom, — " Altare ad 
punctum ensis," — by sculptured fragments^ of a sword 
which lie at its foot. 

[1170.] Thus far have we traced the history of the 
murderers, but the great expiation still remained. The 
king had gone from Bur to Argenton, a town situated 
on the high table-land of southern Normandy. The 
night before the news arrived (so ran the story •^) an 
aged inhabitant of Argenton was startled in his sleep 
by a scream rising as if from the ground, and form- 
ing itself into these portentous words : " Behold, my 
blood cries from the earth more loudly than the blood 
of righteous Abel, who was killed at the beginning of 
the world." The old man on the following day was 
discussing with his friend what this could mean, when 

choir of Sens Cathedral. A striking modern picture of the scene, 
just before the onslau_2jht of the murderers, by the English artist Mr. 
Cross (see Eraser's Magazine, June, 1861), is now hung in the north 
aisle of the cathedral. 

1 " Berri " is probal>ly a mistake for Bear's Son, Fitzurse's (Fusci's) 
English name. The same names occur in Hentzner's Travels in Eng- 
land, 1598: "In vestibulo templi quod est ad austrum in saxum incisi 
sunt tres armati . . . additis his cognominibus, Tusci, Fusci, Berri." 

- That these are representations of the broken sword is confirmed 
by the exactly similar representation in the seal of the Abbey of 
Aberbrothock. 

3 Benedict, de Mirac. S. Thomas, i. 3. 



134 THE KING'S REMORSE. 

suddenly the tidings arrived that Becket had been slain 
at Canterbury. When the king heard it, he instantly 
shut himself up for three days, refused all food ^ except 
milk of almonds, rolled himself in sackcloth and ashes, 
vented his grief in frantic lamentations, and called God 
to witness that he was in no way responsible for the 
Archbishop's death, unless that he loved him too little.^ 
He continued in this solitude for five weeks, neitlier 
riding nor transacting public business, but exclaiming 
again and again, "Alas ! alas that it ever happened!"^ 
The French King, the Archbishop of Sens, and otli- 
ers had meanwhile written to the Pope, denouncing 
Henry in the strongest language as the murderer, and 
calling for vengeance upon his head;^ and there was 
a fear that this vengeance would take the terrible form 
of a public excommunication of the king and an inter- 
dict of the kingdom. Henry, as soon as he was roused 
from his retirement, sent off as envoys to Eome the 
Archbishop of Eouen, the Bishop of Worcester, and 
others of his courtiers, to avert the dreaded penalties 
by announcing his submission. The Archbishop of 
Kouen returned on account of illness ; and Alexander 
III., who occupied the Papal See, and who after long 
struggles with his rival had at last got back to Rome, 
refused to receive the rest. He was, in fact, in the 
eyes of Christendom, not wholly guiltless himself, in 
consequence of the lukewarmness with which he had 
fought Becket's fights; and it was believed that he, 
like the king, had shut himself up on hearing the news 
as much from remorse as from grief. At last, by a bribe 

^ Vita Qnadripartita, p. 143. " Milk of almonds " is used iu Russia 
during fasts instead of common milk. 
2 Matt. Paris, 125. 
5 Vita Qnadripartita, p. 146 * Brompton, 1064. 



THE KING'S REMORSE. 135 

of five hundred marks, ^ an interview was effected on 
the heights of ancient Tusculum, — not yet superseded 
by the modern Frascati. Two cardinals — Theodore (or 
Theodwin), Bishop of Portus, and Albert, Chancellor of 
the Holy See — were sent to Normandy to receive the 
royal penitent's submission,^ and an excommunication 
was pronounced against the murderers on Maunday 
Thursday,^ which is still the usual day for the delivery 
of papal maledictions. The worst of the threatened 
evils — excommunication and interdict — were thus 
avoided ; but Henry still felt so insecure that he 
crossed over to England, ordered all the ports to be 
strictly guarded to prevent the admission of the fatal 
document, and refused to see any one who was the 
bearer of letters.* It was during this short stay that 
he visited for the last time the old Bishop of Winches- 
ter,^ Henry of Blois, brother of King Stephen, well 
known as the founder of the beautiful hospital of St 
Cross, when the dying old man added his solemn warn- 
ings to those which were resounding from every quar- 
ter with regard to the deed of blood. From England 
Henry crossed St. George's Channel to his new con- 
quests in Ireland; and it was on his return from the 
expedition that the first public expression of his peni- 
tence was made in Normandy. 

He repaired to his castle of Gorram,^ now Goron, on 
the banks of the Colmont, where he first met the Pope's 

1 Gervase, 1418. 2 Brompton, 1068. 

3 Gervase, 1418. « Diceto, 556. 

5 Gervase, 1419. 

6 Ep. St. Thomte in MSS. Cott. Claud., h. ii. f. 350, ep. 94; also 
preserved in the " Vita Quadripartita," edited by Lupus at Brussels 
pp. 146, 147, 871, where, however, the epistle is numbered 88 from a 
Vatican manuscript. 

The castle in question was procured by Henry I. from Geoffrey, 
third duke of Mayenne, and was well known for its deer-preserves. To 



136 PENANCE AT GORRAM AND AVRANCHES. [1172. 

Legates, and exchanged the kiss of charity with them. 
This was on the 16th of May, the Tuesday before the 
Eogation days ; the next day he went on to Savigny, 
where they were joined by the Archbishop of Eouen 
and many bishops and noblemen ; and finally proceeded 
to the Council, which was to be held under the aus- 
pices of the Legate at Avranches. 

The great Norman cathedral of that beautiful city 
stood on what was perhaps the finest situation of any 
cathedral in Christendom, — on the brow of the high 
ridge which sustains the town of Avranches, and look- 
ing over the wide bay, in the centre of which stands 
the sanctuary of Norman chivalry and superstition, the 
majestic rock of St. Michael, crowned with its for- 
tress and chapel. Of this vast cathedral, one granite 
pillar alone has survived the neglect that followed the 
French Revolution, and that pillar marks the spot 
where Henry performed his first penance for the mur- 
der of Recket. It bears an inscription with these 
words : " Sur cette pierre, ici, a la porte de la cathd- 
drale d' Avranches, apres le meurtre de Thomas Becket, 
Archeveque de Cantorbdry, Henri IL, Roi dAngleterre 
et Due de Normandie, re^ut a genoux, des Idgats du 
Pape, I'absolution apostolique, le Dimanche, xxi Mai. 
MCLXXII." 1 

the ecclesiastical historian of the nineteenth century the town near 
which it is situated will possess a curious interest, as the original 
seat of the family of Gorram, or Gorham, which after giving birth 
to Geoffrey the Abbot of St. Allians and Nicholas the theologian, each 
famous in his day, has become known in our generation through the 
celebrated Gorham controversy, which in 1850 invested for a time 
with an almost European interest the name of the late George Corne- 
lius Gorham, vicar of Bramford Speke. To his courtesy and profound 
antiquarian knowledge I am indebted for the above references. 

1 So the inscription stands as I saw it in 1874. But as it appeared 
when I first saw it, in 1851, and also in old guide-books of Normandy, 



1172.] PENANCE AT AVRANCHES. 137 

The council was held in the Church, on the Friday 
of the same week. On the following Sunday, being 
Eogation Sunday, or that which precedes the Ascen- 
sion, the king swore on the Gospels that he had not 
ordered or wished the Archbishop's murder ; but that 
as he could not put the assassins to death, and feared 
that his fury had instigated them to the act, he was 
ready on his part to make all satisfaction, — adding, of 
himself, that he had not grieved so much for the death 
of his father or his mother.^ He next swore adhesion 
to the Pope, restitution of the property of the See of 
Canterbury, and renunciation of the Constitutions of 
Clarendon ; and further promised, if the Pope required, 
to go a three years' crusade to Jerusalem or Spain, and 
to support two hundred soldiers for the Templars.^ Af- 
ter this he said aloud, " Behold, my Lords Legates, my 
body is in your hands ; be assured that whatever you 
order, whether to go to Jerusalem or to Eome or to 
St. James [of Compostela], I am ready to obey." The 
spectators, whose sympathy is usually with the sufferer 
of the hour, were almost moved to tears.^ He was 
thence led by the legates to the porch, where he knelt, 
but was raised up, brought into the church, and recon- 

it was " xxii Mai." Mr. Gorham pointed out to me at the time that 
the 22d of May did not that year fall on a Sunday : — 
"In A. D. 1171, Sunday feU on May 2.3d. 
InA. D. 1172, " " " May 21st. 
luA.D. 117.3, " " " May 20th. 
The only years in the reign of Henry II. in which May 22d fell on a 
Sunday were a. d. 115.'), 1160, 1166, 1177, 1183, 1188." There .seems 
no reason to doubt the year 1172, which is fixed by the Cotton MS. 
Life of Saint Thomas, nor the fact that it was in May ; not, as Ger- 
vase (p. 422) states, on the 27th of September, misled perhaps, as Mr. 
Gorham suggests, by some document subsequently signed by the 
king. 

1 Diceto, 557. 

2 Alan., in Vita Quadripartita, p. 147. 3 Gervase, 1422. 



138 THE KING AT BONNEVILLE. [1174. 

ciled. The young Henry, at his father's suggestion, was 
also present, and, placing his hand in that of Cardinal 
Albert,^ promised to make good his father's oath. The 
Archbishop of Tours was in attendance, that he might 
certify the penance to the French king. 

Two years passed again, and the fortunes of the king 
grew darker and darker with the rebellion of his sons. 
It was this which led to the final and greater pen- 
ance at Canterbury. [1174.] He was conducting a 
campaign against Prince Kichard in Poitou, when the 
Bishop of Winchester arrived with the tidings that 
England was in a state of general revolt. The Scots 
had crossed the border, under their king ; Yorkshire 
was in rebellion, under the standard of Mowbray ; 
Norfolk, under Bigod ; the midland counties, under 
Ferrers and Huntingdon ; and the Earl of Flanders 
with Prince Henry was meditating an invasion of Eng- 
land from Flanders. All these hostile movements were 
further fomented and sustained by the 'revival of the 
belief, not sufficiently dissipated by the penance at 
Avranches, that the king had himself been privy to the 
murder of the saint. In the winter after that event, a 
terrible storm had raged through England, Ireland, and 
France, and the popular imagination heard in the long 
roll of thunder the blood of Saint Thomas roaring to 
God for vengeance.^ The next year, as we have seen, 
the saint had been canonized; and his fame as the 
great miracle-worker of the time was increasing every 
month. It was under these circumstances that on the 
midsummer-day of the year 1174 the Bishop found the 
king at Bonneville.^ So many messages had been daily 

1 Alan., in Vita Qnadripartita, pp. 147, 148. 

2 Matthew of Westminster, 2.50. 

3 " The chroniclers have made a confusion between June and July ; 
but July is right. " — Hoveden, 308. 



1174.] HIS RIDE FROM SOUTHAMPTON. 139 

de.spatched, and so much im])ortance was attached to 
the character of the Uishop of Whichester, that the 
Normans, on seeing his arrival, exclaimed, " The next 
thing that the English will send over to fetch the king 
will be the Tower of London itself." ^ Henry saw at 
once the emergency. That very day, with the queens 
Eleanor and Margaret, his son and daughter John and 
Joan, and the princesses, wives of his other sons, he set 
out for England. He embarked in spite of the threat- 
ening weather and the ominous looks of the captain. 
A tremendous gale sprang up ; and the king uttered a 
public prayer on board the ship, that, " if his arrival in 
England would be for good, it might be accomplished ; 
if for evil, never." 

The wind abated, and he arrived at Southampton 
on Monday, the 8th of July. From that moment he 
began to live on the penitential diet of bread and 
water, and deferred all business till he had fulfilled 
his vow. He rode to Canterbury with speed, avoiding 
towns as much as possible, and on Friday, the 12th of 
July, approached the sacred city, probably by a road of 
which traces still remain, over the Surrey hills, and 
which falls into what was then, as now, the London 
road by the ancient village and hospital of Harbledown. 
This hospital, or leper -house, now venerable with the 
age of seven centuries, was then fresh from the hands 
of its founder, Lantranc. Whether it had yet obtained 
the relic of the saint — the upper leather of his shoe, 
which Erasmus saw, and which it is said remained in 
the almshouse almost down to our own day — does not 
appear ; but he halted there, as was the wont of all 
pilgrims, and made a gift of forty marks to the lit- 
tle church. And now, as he climbed the steep road 
1 Diceto, 573. 



140 PENANCE IN THE CRYPT, [1174. 

beyond the hospital and descended on the other side of 
the hill, the first view of the cathedral burst upon him, 
rising, not indeed in its present proportions, but still 
with its three towers and vast front ; and he leaped off 
his horse, and went on foot through a road turned into 
puddles by the recent storms,^ to the outskirts of the 
town. Here, at St. Dunstan's Church,^ he paused again, 
entered the edifice with the prelates who were present, 
stripped off his ordinary dress, and walked through the 
streets in the guise of a penitent pilgrim, — barefoot, 
and with no other covering than a woollen shirt, and a 
cloak thrown over it to keep off rain.^ 

So, amidst a wondering crowd, — the rough stones of 
the streets marked with the blood that started from 
his feet, — he reached the cathedral. There he knelt, 
as at Avranches, in the porch, then entered the church, 
and went straight to the scene of the murder in the 
north transept. Here he knelt again, and kissed the 
sacred stone on which the Archbishop had fallen, 
the prelates standing round to receive his confession. 
Thence he was conducted to the crypt, where he again 
knelt, and with groans and tears kissed the tomb and 
remained long in prayer. At this stage of the solem- 
nity Gilbert Foliot, Bishop of London, — the ancient 
opponent and rival of Becket, — addressed the monks 
and bystanders, announcing to them the king's peni- 
tence for having by his rash words unwittingly occa- 
sioned the perpetration of a crime of which he him- 
self was innocent, and his intention of restoring the 
rights and property of the church, and bestowing forty 
marks yearly on the monastery to keep lamps burning 

1 Trivet, 104; Robert of Mont S. Michel. (Appendix to Sigebert 
in Perthes, vol. vi.) 

^ Grim, 86. ^ Gamier, 78, 29. He was present. 



I 



,174.] 



PENANCE IN THE CRYPT. 



141 



constantly at the martyr's tomb.^ The king ratified 
all that the bishop had said, requested absolution, and 
received a kiss of reconciliation from the prior. He 
knelt again at the tomb, removed the rough cloak 
which had been thrown over his shoulders, but still 




THE CRTPT, CANTEKBURT CATHEDRAL. 

retained the woollen shirt to hide the haircloth,^ which 
was visible to near observation, next his skin, placed 
his head and shoulders in the tomb, and there received 
five strokes from each bishop and abbot who was 
present, beginning with Foliot, who stood by w^ith the 
" balai," or monastic rod, in his hand,^ and three from 

1 Gamier, 80, 9. 

2 Newburgh alone (1181) represents the penance as having taken 
place in the chapter-house, doubtless as the usual place for discipline. 
The part surrounding the tomb was superseded in the next generation 
bj' the circular vault which now supports the Trinity Chapel. But 
the architecture must have been like what is now seen in the western 
portion of the crypt. 

3 Grim, 86. "A lively representation of Henry's penance is to be 
seen in Carter's Ancient Sculpture and Painting (p. 50). The king is 



142 ABSOLUTION. [1174. 

each of the eighty monks. Fully absolved, he resumed 
his clothes, but was still left in the crypt, resting 
against one of the rude Norman pillars,^ on the bare 
ground, with bare feet^ still unwashed from the muddy 
streets, and passed the whole night fasting. At early 
matins he rose and went round the altars and shrines 
of the upper church, then returned to the tomb, and 
finally, after hearing Mass, drank of the Martyr's well, 
and carried off one of the usual phials of Canterbury 
pilgrims, containing water mixed with the blood, and 
so rode to London.^ 

So deep a humiliation of so great a prince w^as un- 
paralleled within the memory of that generation. The 
submission of Theodosius to Ambrose, of Louis le De- 
bonnaire at Soissons, of Otho III. at Eavenna, of Edgar 
to Dunstan, of the Emperor Henry IV. to Gregory 
A^ll., were only known as matters of history. It is 
not surprising that the usual figure of speech by which 
the chroniclers express it should be, — " the moun- 
tains trembled at the presence of the Lord," — " the 
mountain of Canterbury smoked before Him who 
touches the hills and they smoke." * The auspicious 
conseqiiences were supposed to be immediate. The 
king had arrived in London on Sunday, and was so 

represented as kneeling, crowned but almost naked, before the shrine. 
Two great officei'S, one bearing the sword of State, stand behind him. 
The monks in their black Benedictine robes are defiling round the 
shrioe, each with a large rod in his hand approaching the bare shoul- 
ders of the king. A good notion of this ceremony of the scourging is 
conveyed by the elaborate formalities with which it was nominally, 
and probably for the last time, exercised by Pope Julius II. and the 
Cardinals on the Venetian Deputies in 1509." — Sketches of Venetian 
Histori/, c. 16. 

1 Garnier, 80, 29. 2 Diceto, 575. 

3 See Note A. to the Essay on " Becket's Shrine." 

4 Grim, 86. 



1174.] COUNT RALPH OF GLANVILLE. 143 

completely exhausted by the effects of the long day 
and night at Canterbury, that he was seized with a 
dangerous fever. On the following Thursday,^ at mid- 
night, the guards were roused by a violent knocking at 
the gates. The messenger, who announced that he 
])rought good tidings, was reluctantly admitted into 
the king's bedroom. The king, starting from his sleep, 
said, "Who art thou?" "I am the servant of your 
faithful Count Ralph of Glanville," was the answer, 
"and I come to bring you good tidings." " Is our good 
Ealph well ? " asked the king. " He is well," answered 
the servant, " and he has taken your enemy, the King 
of the Scots, prisoner at Richmond." The king was 
thunderstruck ; the servant repeated his message, and 
produced the letters confirming it.^ The king leaped 
from his bed, and returned thanks to God and Saint 
Thomas. The victory over William the Lion had taken 
place on the very Saturday on which he had left Can- 
terbury, after having made ^ his peace with the martyr. 
On that same Saturday the fleet with which his son 
had intended to invade England from Flanders* was 
driven back. It was in the enthusiasm of this crisis 
that Tracy, as it would seem, presented to the king 
the bequest of his manor of Daccombe to the monks of 
Canterbury, which accordingly received then and there, 
at Westminster, the royal confirmation.^ Once more, 
so far as we know, the penitent king and the penitent 
knight met, in the December of that same year, when, 

^ Gervase's Chronicle, 1427. 

- Brompton, 1095. The effect of this story is heightened by Gau- 
fridus Vosiensis (Script. Ker. Franc, 44.3), who speaks of the an- 
nouncement as taking place in Canterbury Cathedral, after Mass was 
finished. 

3 Brompton, 1096. 4 Matt. Paris, 130. 

5 See Appendix to " Becket's Shrine." 



144 CONCLUSION. 

ill the fortress of Falaise, the captured king of Scotland 
did homage to his conqueror ; Tracy standhig, as of old, 
by his master's side, but now in the high position of 
Justiciary of Normandy. Nor did the association of 
his capture with the Martyr's power pass away from 
the mind of William the Lion. He, doubtless in recol- 
lection of these scenes, reared on his return to Scotland 
the stately abbey of Aberbrothock, to the memory of 
Saint Thomas of Canterbury. 

Thus ended this great tragedy. Its effects on the 
constitution of the country and on the religious feeling 
not only of England but of Europe, would open too large 
a field. It is enough if, from the narrative we have 
given, a clearer notion can be formed of that remark- 
able event than is to be derived from the works either 
of his professed apologists or professed opponents, — if 
the scene can be more fully realized, the localities more 
accurately identified, the man and his age more clearly 
understood. If there be any who still regard Becket 
as an ambitious and unprincipled traitor, plotting for 
his own aggrandizement against the welfare of the mon- 
archy, they will perhaps be induced, by the accounts 
of his last moments, to grant to him the honor, if not 
of a martyr, at least of an honest and courageous man, 
and to believe that such restraints as the religious awe 
of high character or of sacred place and ofhce, laid on 
men like Henry and his courtiers, are not to be despised 
in any age, and in that lawless and cruel time were al- 
most the only safeguards of life and property. If there 
be any who are glad to welcome or stimulate attacks, 
however unmeasured in language or unjust in fact, 
against bishops and clergy, whether Eoman Catholic or 
Protestant, in the hope of securing the interests of Chris- 
tian liberty against priestly tyranny, they may take warn- 



CONCLUSION. 145 

ing by the reflection that the greatest impulse ever given 
in this country to the cause of sacerdotal independence 
was the reaction produced by the horror consequent on 
the deed of Fitzurse and Tracy. Those, on the other 
hand, who in the curious change of feeling that has 
come over our age are inclined to the ancient reverence 
for Saint Thomas of Canterbury as the meek and gent.e 
saint of holier and happier times than our own, may 
perhaps be led to modify their judgment by the descrip- 
tion, taken not from his enemies but from his admiring 
followers, of the violence, the obstinacy, the furious 
words and acts, which deformed even the dignity of 
his last hour, and wellnigh turned the solemnity of his 
" martyrdom " into an unseemly brawl. They may 
learn to see in the brutal conduct of the assassins, in 
the abject cowardice of the monks, in the savage mor- 
tifications and the fierce passions of Becket himself, 
how little ground there is for that paradise of faith 
and love which some modern writers find for us in the 
age of the Plantagenet kings.^ And for those who be- 
lieve that an indiscriminate maintenance of ecclesiasti- 
cal claims is the best service they can render to God 
and the Church, and that opposition to the powers that 

1 One of the ablest of Becket's recent apologists (Ozanam, Les deux 
Chanceliers), who combines with his veneration for the Archbishop that 
singular admiration which almost all continental Catholics entertain 
for the late "Liberator" of Ireland, declares that on O'Connell, if on 
any character of this age, the mantle of the saint and martyr has de- 
scended. Perhaps the readers of our narrative will think that, in some 
respects, the comparison of the Frenchman is true in another sense 
than that in which he intended it. So fixed an idea has the similarity 
become in the minds of foreign Eoman Catholics, that in a po]iular 
life of Saint Thomas, published as one of a series at Prague, under the 
authority of the Archliishop of Cologne, the concluding moral is an 
appeal to the example of " the most glorious of laymen," as Pope 
Gregory XVI. called Daniel O'Connell, who as a second Thomas 
strove and suffered for the liberties of his country and his church. 

10 



146 CONCLUSION. 

be is enough to entitle a bishop to the honors of a saint 
and a hero, it may not be without instruction to remem- 
ber that the Constitutions of Clarendon, which Becket 
spent his hfe in opposing, and of which his death pro- 
cured the suspension, are now incorporated in tlie Eng- 
Ush law, and are regarded, without a dissentient voice, 
as among the wisest and most necessary of English in- 
stitutions ; that the especial point for which he surren- 
dered his life was not the independence of the clergy 
from the encroachments of the crown, but the personal 
and now forgotten question of the superiority of the See 
of Canterbury to the See of York.^ Finally, we must 
all remember that the wretched superstitions which 
gathered round the shrine of Saint Thomas ended by 
completely alienating the affections of thinking men 
from his memory, and rendering the name of Becket a 
byword of reproach as little proportioned to his real 
deserts as had been the reckless veneration paid to it 
by his worshippers in the Middle Ages. 

1 " Hcec fuit vera et uuica causa aut occasio necis S. Thomse." — 
GoussAiNviLLE, in Peter of Blois, ep. 22 (see Robertson, p. 200). 
Compare Memorials of Westminster, chap. ii. and chap, v. 



The Lad)' Chapel. 



EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE. 



This lecture, it will be seen, dwells almost entirely upon those points 
which give an interest to the tomb at Canterbury. For any general 
view of the subject, the reader must go to Froissart, or to the biog- 
raphies of Barnes and James ; for any further details, to the excellent 
essays in tlie 20th, 22d, 28th, and 32d volumes of the "Archseologia," 
and to the contemporary metrical life by Chaudos, to which reference 
is made in the course of the lecture. The Ordiuance founding his 
Chantry, and tlie Will which regulated his funeral and the erection of 
his tomb, are printed at the end, with notes by Mr. Albert Way. 



EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE. 



Lecture delivered at Canterbury, June, 1852. 

EVERY one who has endeavored to study history 
must be struck by the advantage which those enjoy 
who live within the neighborhood of great historical 
monuments. To have seen the place where a great 
event happened ; to have seen the picture, the statue, 
the tomb, of an illustrious man, — is the next thing to 
being present at the event in person, to seeing the scene 
with our own eyes. In this respect few spots in Eng- 
land are more highly favored than Canterbury. It is 
not too much to say that if any one were to go through 
the various spots of interest in or around our great 
cathedral, and ask what happened here, — who was 
the man whose tomb we see, — why was he buried 
here, — what effect did his life or his death have on 
the world, — a real knowledge of the history of Eng- 
land would be obtained, such as the mere reading of 
books or hearing of lectures would utterly fail to sup- 
ply. And it is my hope that by lectures of this kind 
you will be led to acquire this knowledge for yourselves 
far more effectually than by hearing anything which the 
lectures themselves convey, — and you will have thus 
gained not only knowledge, but interest and amuse- 
ment in the si^ht of what now seem to be mere stones 



150 HISTORICAL LESSON OF THE CATHEDRAL. 

or bare walls, but what would then be so many chap- 
ters of Eugiish history, so many portraits and pictures 
of famous men and famous events in the successive 
ages of the world. 

Let me, before I begin my immediate subject, show 
you very briefly how this may be done. First, if any 
one asks why Canterbury is wliat it is, — why from 
this small town the first subject in this great kingdom 
takes his title, — why we have any cathedral at all, — 
the answer is to be found in that great event, the most 
important that has ever occurred in English history, — 
the conversion of Ethelbert, King of Kent, by the first 
missionary, Augustine. And if you would understand 
this, it will lead you to make out for yourselves the 
history of the Saxon kings, — who they were, whence 
they came, — and who Augustine was, why he came, — 
and what was the city of Eome, whence he was sent 
forth. And then if you enter the cathedral, you will 
find in the tombs which lie within its walls remem- 
brances of almost every reign in the history of England. 
Augustine and the first seven Archbishops are buried 
at St. Augustine's ; but from that time to the Eeforma- 
tion they have, with a very few exceptions, been buried 
in the cathedral, and even where no tombs are left, the 
places where they were buried are for the most part 
known. And the Archbishops being at that time not 
only the chief ecclesiastics, but also the chief oflficers of 
State in the kingdom, their graves tell you not merely 
the history of the English clergy, but also of the whole 
Commonwealth and State of England besides. It is 
for this reason that there is no church, no place in the 
kingdom, with the exception of Westminster Abbey, 
that is so closely connected with the general history of 
our common country. The kings before the Eeforma- 



THE TOMBS. 151 

tion are for the most part in the Abbey ; but their 
prime ministers, so to speak, are for the most part in 
Canterbury Catliedral.^ 

Ask who it was that first laid out the monastery, 
and who it was that Laid the foundations of the cathe- 
dral as it now stands, and you will find that it was 
Lanfranc, the new Archbishop whom William the Con- 
queror brought over with him from Normandy, and who 
thus re-established the old church with his Norman 
workmen. Then look at the venerable tower on the 
south side of the cathedral, and ask who lies buried 
within, and from whom it takes its name, and you will 
find yourself with Anselm, the wise counsellor of Wil- 
liam Kufus and Henry I., — Anselm, the great theolo- 
gian, who of all the primates of the See of Canterbury 
is the best known by his life and writings throughout 
the world. And then we come to the most remarkable 
event that has happened at Canterbury since the arri- 
val of Augustine, and of which the effect may be traced 
not in one part only, but almost through every stone in 
the cathedral, — the murder of Becket ; followed by the 
penance of Henry II. and the long succession of Canter- 
bury pilgrims. Then, in the south aisle, the effigy of 
Hubert Walter brings before us the camp of the Cru- 
saders at Acre, where he was appomted Archbishop by 
Kichard I. Next look at that simple tomb in St. Mi- 
chael's Chapel, half in and half out of the church, and 
you will be brought to the time of King John ; for it is 
the grave of Stephen Langton, who more than any one 

1 See Archbishop Parker's record, compendiously given in Profes- 
sor Willis's History of Canterbury Cathedral, pp. 13, 134. I cannot 
forbear to express a hope that this series of illustrious tombs will not 
be needlessly cut short for all future generations by the recent enact- 
ment forbidding the interment even of our Archbishops within their 
own cathedrals. 



152 BIRTH OF THE BLACK PRIXCE. [1330. 

man won for us the Magna Charta. Then look back at 
the north transept, at the wooden statue that lies in the 
corner. That is the grave of Archbishop Peckham, in 
the reign of King Edward I. ; and close beside that spot 
King Edward I. was married. And now we come to 
the time at which the subject of my lecture begins, the 
reign of King Edward III. And so we might pass on 
to Archbishop Sudbury, who lost his head in the reign 
of Eichard 11. ; to Henry IV., who lies there himself; 
to Chichele, wdio takes us on to Henry V. and Henry 
VI. ; to Morton, who reminds us of Henry VII. and Sir 
Thomas More ; to Warham, the friend of Erasmus, pre- 
decessor of Archbishop Cranmer ; and then to the sub- 
sequent troubles — of which the cathedral still bears 
the marks — in the Reformation and the Civil Wars. 

On some future occasion, perhaps, I may be permitted 
to speak of the more important of these, as opportunity 
may occur. But for the present let us leave the Pri- 
mates of Canterbury, and turn to our especial subject. 
Let us place ourselves in imagination by the tomb of the 
most illustrious layman who rests among us, Edward 
Plantagenet, Prince of Wales, commonly called the Black 
Prince. Let us ask whose likeness is it that we there see 
stretched before us, — why was he buried in this place, 
amongst the Archbishops and sacred shrines of former 
times, — what can we learn from his life or his death? 

[1330.] A few words must first be given to his birth 
and childhood. He was born on the 15th of June, 1330, 
at the old palace of Woodstock, near Oxford, from which 
he was sometimes called Prince Edward of Woodstock.^ 
He w^as, you will remember, the eldest son of King Ed- 
ward III. and Queen Philippa, — a point always to be 
remembered in his history, because, like Alexander the 
1 Archaeologia, xxii. 227. 



1342.] EDUCATION AT QUEEN'S COLLEGE. 153 

Great, and a few other eminent instances, he is one of 
those men in whom the peculiar qualities both of his 
father and of his mother were equally exemplified. 
Every one knows the story of the siege of Calais, of 
the sternness of King Edward and the gentleness of 
Queen Philippa ; and it is the union of these qualities 
in their son which gave him the exact place which he 
occupies in the succession of our Enghsh princes and 
in the history of Europe. 

We always like to know where a famous man was 
educated. And here we know the place, and also see the 
reason why it was chosen. Any of you who have been 
at Oxford will remember the long line of buildings which 
overlook the beautiful curve of High Street, — the build- 
ings of " Queen's College," the College of the Queen. At 
the time of which I speak, that college was the great- 
est, — two others only in any regular collegiate form ex- 
isted in Oxford. It had but just been founded by the 
chaplain of Queen Philippa, and took its name from her. 
There it was that, according to tradition, the Prince of 
Wales, her son, — as in the next generation, Henry V., 
— was brought up. [1342.] If we look at the events 
which followed, he could hardly have been twelve years 
old when he went. But there were then no schools in 
England, and their place was almost entirely supplied 
by the universities. Queen's College is much altered 
in every way since the little Prince went there ; but 
they still keep an engraving of the vaulted room, which 
he is said to have occupied ; ^ and though most of the 
old customs which prevailed in the college, and which 
made it a very peculiar place even then, have long since 
disappeared, some which are mentioned by the founder, 
and which therefore must have been in use when the 

1 It now hangs in the gallery above the hall of Queen's College. 



154 EDUCATION AT QUEEN'S COLLEGE. [1342. 

Prince was there, still continue. You may still hear 
the students summoned to dinner, as he was, by the 
sound of a trumpet ; and in the hall you may still see, 
as he saw, the Fellows sitting all on one side of the 
table, with the Head of the college in the centre, in 
imitation of the " Last Supper," as it is commonly rep- 
resented in pictures.^ The very names of the Head 
and the twelve Fellows (the number tirst appointed by 
the founder, in likeness of our Lord and the Apostles), 
who were presiding over the college when the Prince 
was there, are known to us.^ He must have seen — what 
has long since vanished away — the thirteen beggars, 
deaf, dumb, maimed, or blind, daily brought into the 
hall to receive their dole of bread, beer, pottage, and 
fish.^ He must have seen the seventy poor scholars, 
instituted after the example of the seventy disciples, 
and learning from their two chaplains to chant the ser- 
vice.* He must have heard the mill within or hard by 
the college walls grinding the Fellows' bread. He must 
have seen the porter of the college going round the 
rooms betimes in the morning to shave the beards and 
wash the heads of the Fellows.^ In these and many 
other curious particulars, we can tell exactly what the 
customs and appearance of the college were when the 
Prince was there. It is more difficult to answer another 
question, which we always wish to know about famous 
men, — Who were his companions ? An old tradition 
(unfortunately beset with doubts) points to one youth 
at that time in Oxford, and at Queen's College,^ whom 

1 Statutes of Queen's College, p. 11. 

- Ibid., pp. 9, .33. 8 Ibid., p. 30. 4 ibj,]., p. 27. 

5 Ibid., pp. 28, 29. 

6 For the doubts respecting the tradition of the Black Prince and 
of Wycliffe at Queen's College, see Appendix. 



1346.] BATTLE OF CRESSY. 155 

we shall all recognize as an old acquaintance, — John 
Wycliffe, the first English Eeformer, and the first trans- 
lator of the Bible into English. He would have been 
a poor boy, in a threadbare coat,^ and devoted to study, 
and the Prince probably never exchanged looks or words 
with him. But we shall be glad to l^e allowed to believe 
that once at least in their lives the great soldier of the 
age had crossed the path of the great Eeformer, Each 
thought and cared little for the other ; their characters 
and pursuits and sympathies were as different as were 
their stations in life. Let us be thankful if we have 
learned to understand them both, and see what was 
good in each, far better than they did themselves. 

We now pass to the next events of his life ; those 
which have really made him almost as famous in war 
as Wycliffe has been in peace, — the two great battles 
of Cressy and of Poitiers. I will not now go into the 
origin of the war of which these two battles formed 
the turning-points It is enough for us to remem- 
ber that it was undertaken by Edward III. to gain the 
crown of France, — a claim, through his mother, which 
he had solemnly relinquished, but which he now re- 
sumed to satisfy the scruples of his allies, the citizens 
of Ghent, who thought that their oath of allegiance 
to the " King of France " would be redeemed if their 
leader did but bear the name. 

[1346.] And now first for Cressy. I shall not un- 
dertake to describe the whole fight, but will call yovir 
attention briefly to the questions which every one ought 
to ask himself, if he wishes to understand anything 
about any battle whatever. First, Where was it fought ? 
secondly, Why was it fought ? thirdly, How was it won ? 
and fourthly, What was the result of it ? And to this 
1 See Chaucer's description of the Oxford Clerk. 



156 BATTLE OF CRESSY. [1346. 

I must add, in the present instance, What part was 
taken in it by the Prince, whom we left as a little boy 
at Oxford, but who was now following his father as a 
young knight in his first great campaign ? The first 
of these questions involves the second also. If we 
make out where a battle was fought, this usually tells 
us why it was fought; and this is one of the many 
proofs of the use of learning geography together with 
history. Each helps us to understand the other. Ed- 
ward had ravaged Normandy and reached the very 
gates of Paris, and was retreating towards Flanders 
when he was overtaken by the French king, Philip, 
who with an immense army had determined to cut 
him off entirely, and so put an end to the war.^ With 
difficulty and by the happy accident of a low tide, he 
crossed the mouth of the Somme, and found himself 
in his own maternal inheritance of Ponthieu, and for 
that special reason encamped near the forest of Cressy, 
fifteen miles east of Abbeville: "I am," he said, "on 
the right heritage of Madam my mother, which was 
given her in dowry; I will defend it against my adver- 
sary, Philip of Valois." It was Saturday, the 28th of 
August, 1346, and it was at four in the afternoon that 



1 See the interesting details of the battle, in " Archseologia," vol. 
xxviii., taken from records in the Town Hall at Abbeville. The scene 
of the battle has been the snbject of much controversy. An able though 
prejudiced attack on the traditional field is contained in a Memoir on 
the subject by M. Ambert, a French officer (Spectateur Militaire, 1845, 
Paris, Rue Jacob, .30), wliich has been in turn impugned, as it seems 
to me with good reason, in the third edition of M. Seymour de Con- 
stant's Essay on the same subject. It is possible that the local tradi- 
tions may be groundless, but I never saw any place (out of Scotland) 
where the recollection of a past event had struck such root in the 
minds of the peasantry. M. Ambert represents the event, not as a 
battle, but as "un accident social," "un eve'nement politique et social," 
" un choc," "une crise revolutionnaire." 



134G.| BATTLE OF CRESSY. 157 

the battle commenced. It always helps us better to 
imagine any remarkable event, when we know at what 
time of the day or night it took place ; and on this 
occasion it is of great importance, because it helps us 
at once to answer the third question we asked, — How 
was the battle won ? The French army had advanced 
from Abbeville after a hard day's march to overtake 
the retiring enemy. All along the road, and flooding 
the hedgeless plains which bordered the road, the 
army, swelled by the surrounding peasantry, rolled 
along, crying, " Kill! kill!" drawing their swords and 
thinking that they were sure of their prey. What the 
French King chiefly relied upon (besides his great 
numbers) was tlie troop of fifteen thousand cross-bow- 
men from Genoa. These were made to stand in front ; 
when, just as the engagement was about to take place, 
one of those extraordinary incidents occurred, which 
often turn the fate of battles, as they do of human life 
in general. A tremendous storm gathered from the 
west, and broke in thunder and rain and hail on the 
field of battle. The sky was darkened, and the horror 
was increased by the hoarse cries of crows and ra- 
vens, which fluttered before the storm, and struck terror 
into the hearts of the Italian bowmen, who were un- 
accustomed to these northern tempests. And when at 
last the sky had cleared, and they prepared their cross- 
bows to shoot, the strings had been so wet by the rain 
that they could not draw them. By this time the 
evening sun streamed out in full splendor ^ over the 
black clouds of the western sky, — right in their faces ; 
and at the same moment the English archers, who had 
kept their bows in cases during the storm, and so had 

^ " A sun issuing from a cloud was the badge of the Black Prince, 
probably from this occurrence." — Archceologia, xx. 106. 



158 BATTLE OF CRESSY. [1346. 

their strings dry, let fly their arrows so fast and thick, 
that those who were present could only compare it to 
snow or sleet. Through and through the heads and 
necks and hands of the Genoese bowmen the arrows 
pierced. Unable to stand it, they turned and fled ; 
and from that moment the panic and confusion was 
so great that the day was lost. 

But though the storm and the sun and the archers 
had their part, we must not forget the Prince. He 
was, we must remember, only sixteen, and yet he com- 
manded the whole English army. It is said that the 
reason of this was that the King of France had been 
so bent on destroying the English forces that he had 
hoisted the sacred banner of France ^ — the great scar- 
let flag, embroidered with golden lilies, called the Ori- 
flamme — as a sign that no quarter would be given ; 
and that when King Edward saw this, and saw the 
hazard to which he should expose not only the army, 
but the whole kingdom, if he were to fall in battle, he 
determined to leave it to his son. On the top of a 
windmill, of which the solid tower still is to be seen 
on the ridge overhanging the field, the king, for what- 
ever reason, remained bareheaded, whilst the young 
Prince, who had been knighted ^ a month before, went 
forward with his companions in arms into the very 
thick of the fray ; and when his father saw that the 
victory was virtually gained, he forbore to interfere. 
" Let the child icin his spurts " he said, in words which 
have since become a proverb, " and let the dai/ he his." 
The Prince was in very great danger at one moment; 

1 The Oriflamme of France, like the green Standard of the Prophet 
in the Tnrkish Empire, had the effect of declaring the war to be what 
was called a " Holy War," — that is, a war of extermination. 

- Archneologia, xxxi. 3. 



1346.] NAME OF "BLACK PRINCE." 159 

he was wounded and thrown to the ground, and 
only saved by IJichard de Beaumont, who carried the 
great banner of Wales, throwing the banner over the 
boy as he lay on the ground, and standing upon it till 
he had driven back the assailants.^ The assailants 
were driven back, and far through the long summer 
evening and deep into the summer night the battle 
raged. It was not till all was dark, that the Prince 
and his companions halted from their pursuit ; and 
then huge fires and torches were lit up, that the king 
might see where they were. And then took place the 
touching interview between the father and the son ; the 
king embracing the boy in front of the wliole army, 
by the red light of the blazing fires, and saying, " Siceet 
son, God give you good perseverance ; you are my true 
son, — right loyally have you acquitted yourself this day, 
and worthy are you of a crown." And the young Prince, 
after the reverential manner of those times, " bowed 
to the ground, and gave all the honor to the king his 
father." The next day the king walked over the field 
of carnage with the Prince, and said, " Wliat think you 
of a battle ? Is it an agreeable game ? " ^ 

The general result of the battle w^as the deliverance 
of the English army from a most imminent danger, 
and subsequently the conquest of Calais, which the 
king immediately besieged and won, and which re- 
mained in the possession of the English from that day 
to the reign of Queen Mary. From that time the 
Prince became the darling of the English and the ter- 
ror of the French ; and whether from this terror or 
from the black armor which he wore on that day,^ 

^ Archaeologia, xxxviii. 184. Ibid., 187. 

^ The king dressed his son before the battle " en armure noire en 
fer bruni." See Louandre's Histoire d'Abbeville, p. 230. 



160 BATTLE OF POITIERS. [1356. 

and which contrasted with the fairness of his com- 
plexion, he was called by them " Le Prince Noir" (the 
Black Prince),^ and from them the name has passed 
to us ; so that all his other sounding titles, by which 
the old poems call him, — "Prince of Wales, Duke of 
Aquitaine," — are lost in the one memorable name 
which he won for himself in his first fight at Cressy. 
[1356.] And now we pass over ten years, and find 
him on the field of Poitiers. Again we must ask, 
what brought him there, and why the battle was 
fought. He was this time alone ; his father, though 
the war had rolled on since the battle of Cressy, was in 
England. But in other respects the beginning of the 
fight was very like that of Cressy, Gascony belonged 
to him by right, and from this he made a descent into 
the neighboring provinces, and was on his return home, 
when the King of France — John, the son of Philip — 
pursued him as his father had pursued Edward III., 
aud overtook him suddenly on the high upland fields 
which extended for many miles south of the city of 
Poitiers. It is the third great battle which has been 
fought in that neighborhood : the first was that in 
which Clovis defeated the Goths, and established the 
faith in the creed of Athanasius throughout Europe ; 
the second was that in which Charles Martel drove 
back the Saracens, and saved Europe from Mahom- 
etanism ; the third was this, — the most brilliant of 
English victories over the French. ^ The spot, which is 

1 See p. 177 ; also his Will (Appendix, p. 197), where he speaks of the 
black drapery of his " hall," the black banners, and the black devices 
which he used in tournaments. We may compare, too, the black pony 
upon which he rode on his famous entry into London. (Froissart.) 

- The battle of Clovis is believed to have been at Voulon, on the 
road to Bordeaux ; that of Charle.s Martel is uncertain. These three 
battles (with that of Moncontour, fought not far off, in 1569, after 



1356.] BATTLE OF POITIERS. 161 

about six miles south of Poitiers, is still known by the 
name of the Battle-field. Its features are very slightly 
marked, — two ridges of rising ground, parted by a gen- 
tle hollow ; behind the highest of these two ridges is 
a large tract of copse and underwood, and leading up 
to it from the hollow is a somewhat steep lane, there 
shut in by woods and vines on each side. It was on 
this ridge that the Prince had taken up his position, 
and it was solely by the good use which he made of 
this position that the victory was won. The French 
army was arranged on the other side of the hollow in 
three great divisions, of which the king's was the hind- 
most ; the farm-house which marks the spot where this 
division was posted is visible from the walls of Poitiers. 
It was on Monday, Sept. 19, 1356, at nine A. M., that 
the battle began. All the Sunday had been taken up 
by fruitless endeavors of Cardinal Talleyrand to save 
the bloodshed by bringing the king and Prince to 
terms, — a fact to be noticed for two reasons : first, be- 
cause it shows the sincere and Christian desire which 

the siege of Poitiers, by Admiral Coligny) are well described by M. S. 
Hippolyce, in a number of the " Spectateur Militaire." For my ac- 
quaintance with this work, as well as for any details which follow 
relating to the battle, I am indebted to the kindness and courtesy 
of M. Foucart, of Poitiers, in whose company I visited the field of 
battle in the summer of 1851. The site of the field has been much 
contested by antiquaries, but now appears to be fixed beyond dispute. 
The battle is said to have been fought " at Maupertuis, between 
Beauvoir and the Abbey of Nouille." There is a place called Mau- 
pertuis near a village Beauvoir, on the north of Poitiers, which has 
led some to transfer the battle thither ; but besides the general argu- 
ments, both from tradition and from the probabilities of the case in 
favor of the southern site, there is a deed in the municipal archives 
of Poitiers, in which the farm-house now called La Cardiuiere (from 
its owner Cardina, to whom it was granted by Louis XIV., like many 
estates in the neighborhood called from their owners) is said to be 
"alias Maupertuis." The fine Gothic ruin of the Abbey of Nouille 
also remains, a quarter of an hour's walk from the field. 

11 



162 BATTLE OF POITIEKS. [1356. 

animated tlie clergy of those times, in the midst of all 
their faults, to promote peace and good-will amongst 
the savage men with whom they lived ; and secondly, 
because the refusal of the French King and Prince to 
be persuaded shows, on this occasion, the confidence of 
victory which had possessed them. 

The Prince offered to give up all the castles and 
prisoners he had taken, and to swear not to fight in 
Prance again for seven years. But the king would 
hear of nothing but his absolute surrender of himself 
and his army on the spot. The Cardinal labored till 
the very last moment, and then rode back to Poitiers, 
having equally offended both parties. The story of the 
battle, if we remember the position of the armies, is 
told in a moment. The Prince remained firm in his 
position ; the French charged with their usual chival- 
rous ardor, — charged up the lane ; the English arch- 
ers, whom the Prince had stationed behind the hedges 
on each side, let fly their showers of arrows, as at 
Cressy ; in an instant the lane was choked with the 
dead ; and the first check of such headstrong confi- 
dence was fatal. Here, as at Cressy, was exemplified 
the truth of the remark of the mediaeval historian, — 
"We now no longer contest our battles, as did the 
Greeks and Ptomans ; the first stroke decides all." ^ 
The Prince in his turn charged : a general panic seized 
the whole French army ; the first and second division 
fled in the wildest confusion ; the third alone, where 
King John stood, made a gallant resistance ; the king 
was taken prisoner, and by noon the whole was over. 
Up to the gates of the town of Poitiers the French 
army fled and fell ; and their dead bodies were buried 1 jy 
heaps within a convent which still remains in the city. 

1 Lanone, quoted iu JI. Ambcrt's Memoir on Cress}, p. 14. 



1356.] BATTLE OF POITIERS. 163 

It was a wonderful day. It was eight thousand to sixty 
thousand ; the Prince, who had gained the battle, was 
still only twenty-six, — that is, a year younger than 
Napoleon at the beginning of his campaigns, — and the 
battle was distinguished from among all others by the 
number not of the slain but of the prisoners, — one 
Englishman often taking four or five Frenchmen.^ 

" The day of the battle at night, the Prince gave a 
supper in his lodgings to the French King, and to 
most of the great lords that were prisoners. The 
Prince caused the king and his son to sit at one table, 
and other lords, knights, and squires at the others ; and 
the Prince always served the king very humbly, and 
would not sit at the king's table, although he requested 
him, — he said he was not qualified to sit at the table 
with so great a prince as the king was. Then he said 
to the king : ' Sir, for God's sake make no bad cheer, 
thougli your will was not accomplished this day. For, 
Sir, the king, my father, will certainly bestow on you 
as much honor and friendship as he can, and will agree 
with you so reasonably that you shall ever after be 
friends ; and, Sir, I think you ought to rejoice, though 
the battle be not as you will, for you have this day 
gained the high honor of prowess, and have surpassed 
all others on your side in valor. Sir, I say not this in 
raillery ; for all our party, who saw every man's deeds, 
agree in this, and give you the palm and chaplet.' 

1 See the despatch addressed by the Black Prince to the Bishop of 
Worcester a month after the engagement. (Archreologia, i. 213.) It 
winds up with a list of prisoners, and finishes thus : — 

" Et sont pris, etc., des gentz d'armes m.ixc.xxxiii. — Gaudete iu 
Domino 
Et outre sont mortz mmccccxxvi. Iterum dico Gaudete ! " 

It is remarkable that he notices that he had set out on his expedi- 
tion on the eve of the Translation of Saint Thomas. 



164 THE PJllNCE VISITS CANTERBUKY. [1357. 

Therewith the Frenchmen whispered among themselves 
that the Prince had spoken nobly, and that most prob- 
ably he would prove a great hero, if God preserved his 
life, to persevere in such good fortune." 

It was after this great battle that we first hear of the 
Prince's connection with Canterbury. There is, it is 
true, a strange contradiction ^ between the English and 
French historians as to the spot of the Prince's land- 
ing and the course of his subsequent journey. IJut the 
usual story, as told by Froissart, is as follows : — 

[1357.] On the 16th of April, 1357, the Prince 
with the French King landed at Sandwich ; there they 
stayed two days, and on the I'Jth entered Canterbury. 
Simon of Islip was now Archbishop, and he probably 
would be there to greet them. The French King, if we 
may suppose that the same course was adopted here 
as when they reached London, rode on a magnificent 
cream-colored charger, the Prince on a little black pony 
at his side. They came into the cathedral, and made 
their offerings at the shrine of St. Thomas. Tradition ^ 
says, but without any probability of truth, that the 
old room above St. Anselm's Chapel was used as King 
John's prison. He may possibly have seen it, but he is 
hardly likely to have lived there. At any rate, they 
were only here for a day, and then again advanced on 
their road to London. One other tradition we may 
perhaps connect with this visit. Behind the hospital 
at Harbledown is an old well, still called " The Black 
Prince's Well." If this is the only time that he passed 
through Canterbury, — and it is tlie only time that we 
hear of, — then we may suppose that in the steep road 

1 See Appendix. 

2 Gostling's Walks about Canterbury, p. 2G3. For his later visit 
to Canterbury, see " Becket's Slirine." 



The Crypt, Gabriel Chapel. 



1363] THE PRINCE'S MARRIAGE. 165 

underneath the hospital he halted, as we know that all 
pilgrims did, to see Becket's shoe, which was kept in 
the hospital, and that he may have gone down, on the 
other side of the hill to wash, as others did, in the 
water of the spring ; and we may well suppose that 
such an occasion would never be forgotten, and that 
his name would live long afterwards in the memory of 
the old almsmen. 

[1363.] Canterbury, however, had soon a more sub- 
stantial connection with the Black Prince. In 1363 
he married his cousin Joan in the chapel at Windsor ; 
which witnessed no other royal wedding till that beau- 
tiful and touching day which witnessed the union of 
our own Prince of Wales with the Princess Alexandra 
of Denmark. Of these nuptials Edward the Black 
Prince left a memorial in the beautiful chapel still to 
be seen in the crypt of the cathedral, where two 
priests were to pray for his soul, first in his lifetime, 
and also, according to the practice of those times, after 
his death. It is now, by a strange turn of fortune 
which adds another link to the historical interest of the 
place, the entrance to the chapel of the French con- 
gregation, — the descendants of the very nation whom 
he conquered at Poitiers ; but you can still trace the 
situation of the two altars where his priests stood, and 
on the groined vaultings you can see his arms and 
the arms of his father, and, in connection with the joy- 
ful event, in thankfulness for which he founded the 
chapel, what seems to be the face of his beautiful wife, 
commonly known as the Fair Maid of Kent. For the 
permission to found this chantry, he left to the Chapter 
of Canterbury an estate which still belongs to them, 
not far from his own Palace of Kennington and from 
the road still called the " Prince's Ptoad," — the manor 



166 SPANISH CAMPAIGN. |1.1f,r,. 

of " Fawkes' Hall." This ancient namesake of the more 
celeljrated Guy was, as we learn from legal records, a 
powerful baron in the reign of John, and received from 
that king a grant of land in South Lambeth, where he 
built a hall or mansion-house, called from him " Fawkes' 
Hall," or " La Salle de Fawkes." He would have little 
thought of the strange antl universal fame his house 
would acquire in the form in which we are now so 
familiar with it in the gardens, the factories, the bridge, 
and the railway station of Vauxhall} 

[1366.] And now we have to go again over ten years, 
and we find tlie Prince engaged in a war in Spain, help- 
ing Don Pedro, King of Spain, against his brother. ]]ut 
this would take us too far away, — 1 will only say that 
here also he won a most brilliant victory, the battle of 
Nejara, in 1367; and it is interesting to remember that 
the first great commander of the English armies had a 
peninsular war to fight as well as the last, and that the 
flower of English chivalry led his troops through the 
pass of lioncesvalles, 

" Wliere Charleniague auil all his peerage fell," 

in the days of the old romances. 

[1376.] Once again, then, we pass over ten years 
(for by a singular coincidence, which has been observed 
by others, the life of the Prince thus naturally di- 
vides itself), and we find ourselves at the end, — at 
that last scene, which is in fact the main connection of 
the Black Prince with Canterbury. The expedition to 
Spain, though accompanied by one splendid victory had 
ended disastrously. From that moment the fortunes 
of the Prince were overcast. A lonsi and wasting ill- 



1 See Appendix. Fdi- tlio history of Fawkes, see Foss's Judges, 
ii. 2.tG ; Archaeological Journal, iv. 275. 



1370.] HIS APPEARANCE IN PAKLIAMENT. • 167 

ness, which he contracted in the southern climate of 
Spain, broke down his constitution ; a rebellion occa- 
sioned by his own wastefulness, whicli was one of the 
faults of his character, burst forth in his French prov- 
inces ; his father was now shiking in years, and sur- 
rounded by unworthy favorites, — such was the state in 
which the Prince returned for the last time to England. 
For four years he lived in almost entire seclusion at 
Berkhamstead, in preparation for his approaching end ; 
often he fell into long fainting-fits, which his attendants 
mistook for death. One of the traditions which con- 
nects his name with the well at Harbledown speaks of 
his having had the water ^ brought thence to him as he 
lay sick — or, according to a more common but ground- 
less story, dying — in the Archbishop"s palace at Can- 
terbury. Once more, however, his youthful energy, 
though in a different form, shot up in an expiring flame. 
His father, I have said, was sinking into dotage ; and 
the favorites of the court were taking advantage of him, 
to waste the public money. Parliament met, — Par- 
liament, as you must remember, unlike the two great 
Houses which now sway the destiny of the empire, but 
still feeling its way towards its present powers, — Parlia- 
ment met to check this growing evil ; and then it was 
that when they looked round in vain for a leader to guide 
their counsels and support their wavering resolutions, 
the dying Prince came forth from his long retirement, 
and was carried up to London, to assist his country in 
this time of its utmost need. His own residence was 
a palace which stood on what is now called Fish Street 
Hill, the street opposite the London Monument. But 

1 There is no doubt that the well has always been supposed to pos- 
sess medicinal qualities, and this was probably the cause of Lanfranc's 
selection of that spot for his leper-house. 



168 HIS DEATHBED. [1376. 

he would not rest there ; he was brought to the Eoyal 
Pahice of Westminster, that he might be close at hand 
to be carried from his sick-bed to the Parliament, which 
met in the chambers of the palace. This was on the 
28th of April, 1376. The spirit of the Parliament and 
the nation revived as they saw him, and the purpose for 
which he came was accomplished. But it was his last 
effort. Day by day his strength ebbed away, and he 
never again moved from the palace at Westminster. 
On the 7th of June he signed his will, by which, as we 
shall presently see, directions were given for his funeral 
and tomb. On the 8th he rapidly sank. The begin- 
ning of his end cannot be better told than in the words 
of the herald Chandos, who had attended him in all his 
wars, and who was probably present : — 

" Theu the Prince caused his chambers to be opened 
And all his followers to come in, 
Who in his time had served him, 
And served him with a free will ; 
' Sirs,' said he, ' pardon me ; 
For, by the faith I owe you, 
Yuu have served me loyally, 
Though I cannot of my means 
Render to each his guerdon ; 
But God by his most holy name 
And saints, will render it you.' 
Then each wept heartily 
And mourned right tenderly, 
All wlio were there present, 
Earl, baron, and bachelor ; 
Tlieu he said in a clear voice, 
' I recommend to you my sou, 
Who is yet but young and small, 
And pray that as you served me, 
So from your heart you would serve him.' 
Then he called the King his father. 
And the Duke of Lancaster his brother, 
And commended to them his wife, 
And his son, whom he greatly loved. 
And straightway entreated them ; 



137G.] HIS DEATHBED 169 

And each was willing to give liis aid, 

Each swore upon the boolc, 

And tiiey jjromised hitn freely 

That tliey would comfort his son 

And maintain him in his right; 

All the princes and barons 

Swore all round to this, 

And the noble Prince of fame 

Gave them an hundred thousand thanks. 

But till then, so God aid me, 

Never was seen such bitter grief 

As was at his departure. 

The right nol)le excellent Prince 

Felt such pain at heart. 

That it almost burst 

With moaning and sighing, 

And crying out iu his pain 

So great suffering did he endure, 

That there was no man living 

Who had seen his agony, 

But would heartily have pitied liim." ^ 

In this last agony he was, as he had been through 
life, specially attentive to the wants of his servants 
and dependants ; and after having made them large 
gifts, he called his little son to his bedside, and charged 
him on pain of his curse never to take them away from 
them as long as he lived. 

The doors still remained open, and his attendants 
were constantly passing and re-passing, down to the 
least page, to see their dying master. Such a deathbed 
had hardly been seen since the army of Alexander the 
Great defiled through his room during his last illness. 
As the day wore away, a scene occurred which showed 
how even at that moment the stern spirit of his fa- 
ther still lived on in his shattered frame. A knight, Sir 

1 Chandos's Poem of the Black Prince, edited and translated for 
the Roxburghe Club by the Rev. H. O. Coxe, Sub-lilirarian of the Bod- 
leian Library at Oxford. May I tnke this opportunity of expressing 
my grateful sense of his assistance t)n this and on all other occasions 
when I have had the pleasure of referring to him ? 



170 EXORCISM BY THE BISHOP OF BANGOK. [1376. 

Eichard Strong by name, who had offended him by the 
evil counsel he had given to the king, came in with 
the rest. Instantly the Prince broke out into a harsh 
rebuke, and told him to leave the room and see his 
face no more. This burst of passion was too much for 
him, — he sank into a fainting-fit. The end was evi- 
dently near at hand ; and the Bishop of Bangor, who 
was standing by the bedside of the dying man, struck 
perhaps by the scene which had just occurred, strongly 
exhorted him from the bottom of his lieart to forgive 
all his enemies, and ask forgiveness of God and of men. 
The Prince replied, " I will." But the good Bishop was 
not so to be satisfied. Again he urged : " It suffices 
not to say only ' I will ; ' but where you have power, 
you ought to declare it in words, and to ask pardon." 
Again and again the Prince doggedly answered, " I 
will." The Bishop was deeply grieved, and in the be- 
lief of those times, of which we may still admire the 
spirit, though the form both of his act and expression 
has long since passed away, he said, " An evil spirit 
holds his tongue, — we must drive it away, or he will 
die in his sins ; " and so saying, he sprinkled holy 
water over the four corners of the room, and com- 
manded the evil spirit to depart. The Prince was 
vexed by an evil spirit, though not in the sense in 
which the good Bishop meant it ; he was vexed by the 
evil spirit of bitter revenge, which was the curse of 
those feudal times, and which now, thank God, though 
it still lingers amongst us, has ceased to haunt those 
noble souls which then were its especial prey. That 
evil spirit did depart, though not perhaps by the means 
then used to expel it ; the Christian words of the 
good man had produced their effect, and in a moment 
the Prince's whole look and manner was altered. He 



1376.] HIS DEATH. 171 

joined his hands, lifted up his eyes to heaven, and said: 
" I give thee thanks, God, for all thy benefits, and 
with all the pains of my soul I humbly beseech thy 
mercy to give me remission of those sins I have wick- 
edly committed against thee ; and of all mortal men 
whom willingly or ignorantly I have offended, with 
all my heart I desire forgiveness." With these words, 
which seem to have been the last effort of exhausted 
nature, he immediately expired.^ 

It was at three P. M., on Trinity Sunday, — a festival 
which he had always honored with especial reverence ; 
it was on tlie 8th of June, just one month before his 
birthday, in his forty-sixth year, — the same age which 
has closed the career of so many illustrious men both 
in peace and war, — that the Black Prince breathed his 
last. 

Far and wide the mourning spread when the news 
was known. Even amongst his enemies, in the beauti- 
ful chapel of the palace of the French kings, — called 
the Sainte Chapelle, or Holy Chapel, — funeral services 
were celebrated by King Louis, son of that King John 
whom he had taken prisoner at Poitiers. Most deeply, 
of course, was the loss felt in his own family and circle, 
of which he had been so long the pride and ornament. 
His companion in arms, the Captal de Buch, was so 
heart-broken that he refused to take any food, and in 
a few days died of starvation and grief. His father, 
already shaken in strength and years, never recovered 
the blow, and lingered on only for one more year. 

" Mighty victor, mighty lord, — 
Low on his funeral couch he lies. 
Is the sable warrior fled ? 
Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead." 

1 Archoeologia, xxii. 229. 



172 MOURNING. [1376. 

But most striking was the mourning of the whole 
English nation. Seldom, if ever, has the death of one 
man so deeply struck the sympathy of the English 
people. Our fathers saw the mourning of the whole 
country over the Princess Charlotte, and the great fu- 
neral procession which conveyed the remains of Nel- 
son to their resting-place in St. Paul's, — we ourselves 
have seen the deep grief over the sudden death of our 
most illustrious statesman, — we know what is the 
feeling with which we should at this moment ^ regard 
the loss of the great commander who perhaps more 
than any other single person has filled in our minds 
the place of the Black Prince. But in order to ap- 
preciate the mourning of the people, when Edward 
Plantagenet passed away, we must coniLine all these 
feelings. He was the cherished heir to the throne of 
England, and his untimely death would leave the crown 
in the hands of a child, — the prey, as was afterwards 
proved, to popular seditions and to ambitious rivals. 
He was the great soldier, "in whose health the hopes 
of Englishmen had flourished, in whose distress they 
had languished, in whose death they had died. In his 
life they had feared no invasion, no encounter in battle ; 
he went against no army that he did not conquer, he at- 
tacked no city that he did not take," and now to whom 
were they to look ? The last time they had seen him 
in public was as the champion of popular rights against 
a profligate court, as fearless in the House of Parlia- 
ment as he had been on the field of battle. And yet 
more, he died at a moment when all was adverse and 
threatening, — when all was blank in the future, and 

' This was written in June, 1852, and (with all that follows) has 
been left unaltered. The coincidences with what actually took place 
in the autumn of that year will occur to every one. 



1376.] HIS FUNERAL. 173 

that future was dark with cloud and storm. John 
Wydiffe, with whom we parted at Oxford thirty years 
ago, had already begun to proclaim those great changes 
which shook to their centre the institutions of the 
country. There were mutterings, too, of risings in 
classes hitherto not thought of, — Wat Tyler and Jack 
Cade were already on the horizon of Kent and of Eng- 
land ; and in the rivalry of the king's sons, now left 
without an acknowledged chief, were already laid the 
seeds of the long and dreadful wars of the houses of 
York and Lancaster. 

It is by remembering these feelings that we shall 
best enter into the closing scene, with which we are 
here so nearly connected. 

For nearly four months — from the 8th of June to 
the 29th of September — the coffined body lay in state 
at Westminster, and then, as soon as Parliament met 
again, as usual in those times, on the festival of 
Michaelmas, was brought to Canterbury. It was laid 
in a stately hearse, drawn by twelve black horses ; and 
the whole Court, and both houses of Parliament fol- 
lowed in deep mourning. The great procession started 
from Westminster Palace ; it passed through what 
was then the little village of Charing, clustered in the 
midst of the open fields of St. ]\Iartin, round Queen 
Eleanor's Cross. It passed along the Strand, by the 
houses of the great nobles, who had so often fought 
side by side with him in his wars ; and the Savoy 
Palace, where twenty years before he had lodged the 
French King as his prisoner in triumph. It passed un- 
der the shade of the lofty tower of the old cathedral 
of St. Paul's, which had so often resounded with Te 
Deums for his victories. It descended the steep hill, 
overhung by the gray walls of his own palace, above 



174 HIS FUNEEAL. [1376. 

London Bridge ; and over that ancient bridge, then the 
only bridge in London, it moved onwards on its road 
to Canterbury, — that same road wliich at this very 
time had become so well known from Chaucer's " Can- 
terbury Tales." 

On entering Canterbury they paused at the west gate 
of Canterbury, — not the one which now stands there, 
which was built a few years later, — but an older gate- 
way, with the little chapel of Holycross at the top, sur- 
mounted by a lofty cross, seen far off, as the procession 
descended from Harbledown. Here they were met — 
so the Prince had desired in his will ^ — by two chargers, 
fully caparisoned, and mounted by two riders in com- 
plete armor, — one bearing the Prince's arms of Eng- 
land and France, the other the ostrich feathers ; one 
to represent the Prince in his splendid suite as he rode 
in war, the other to represent him in black as he rode 
to tournaments. Four black banners followed. So they 
passed through the streets of the city, till they reached 
the gate of the Precincts. Here, according to the cus- 
tom, the armed men ^ halted, and the body was carried 
into the cathedral. In the space between the high altar 
and the choir a bier was placed to receive it, whilst the 
funeral services were read, surrounded with burning ta- 
pers and with all the heraldic pomp which marked his 
title and rank. It must have been an august assemblage 
which took part in those funeral prayers. The aged 
king, in all probability, was not there, but we cannot 
doubt that the executors were present. One was his ri- 
val brother John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. Another 
was his long-tried friend, William of Wykeham, Pishop 
of Winchester, whose name is still dear to hundreds of 

1 See Appendix. 

- See .Murder of Becket, pp. 99, 104, 118. 



HIS TOMB. 



175 



-if / ' 



Euglisliinen, old and young, from the two magnificent 
colleges which he founded at Winchester and at Oxford. 
A third was Courtenay, Bishop of Loudon, who now lies 
at the Prince's feet, and 
Simon of Sudbury, who 
had been Arclibishop of 
Canterbury in the previ- 
ous years, — he whose 
magnificent bequests still 
appear in the gates and 
walls of the city, — hf 
whose fate it was to be 
the first to suffer in the 
troubles which the 
Prince's death would 
cause, who was beheaded 
by the rebels under Wat 
Tyler on the Tower Hill, 
and whose burial was the 
next great funeral within 
tlie walls of the cathe- 
dral. And now, from the 
choir, the body was again 
raised up, and carried to 
the tomb. 

We have seen already 
that twelve years before 
the Prince had turned 
his thoughts to Canter- 
bury Cathedral as his 
last home, when in remembrance of his visit to the 
shrine of St. Thomas, and of the fact that the church 
w\as dedicated to the Holy Trinity, which, as we have 
seen, he had honored with especial reverence, he 




THE TOMB OF THE BLACK PRINCE IN 
CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL. 



176 HIS TOMB. 

founded the chapel in the crypt. In the centre of 
that crypt, on the spot where you now see the grave- 
stone of Archbishop Morton, it had been his wish to 
be laid, as expressed in the will which he signed only 
the day before his death. But those who were con- 
cerned with the funeral had prepared for him a more 
magnificent resting-place ; not in the darkness of the 
crypt, but high aloft in the sacred space behind the al- 
tar, and on the south side of the shrine of St. Thomas, 
in the chapel itself of the Holy Trinity, on the festival 
of which he had expired, they determined that the body 
of the hero should be laid. That space is now sur- 
rounded with monuments ; then it was entirely, or 
almost entirely, vacant.^ The gorgeous shrine stood in 
the centre on its colored pavement, but no other corpse 
had been admitted within that venerated ground, — no 
other, perhaps, would have been admitted but that of 
the Black Prince. It was twenty-seven years before 
the iron gates of the chapel would again be opened to 
receive the dead, and this too would be a royal corpse, 
— the body of King Henry IV., now a child ten years 
old, and perhaps present as a mourner in this very fu- 
neral, but destined to overthrow the Black Prince's son, 
and then to rest by his side. 

In this sacred spot — believed at that time to be 
the most sacred spot in England — the tomb stood in 
which, " alone in his glory," the Prince was to be de- 
posited, to be seen and admired by all the countless 
pilgrims who crawled up the stone steps beneath it on 
their way to the shrine of the saint.^ 

1 The ouly exception could have been the tomb whicli stands on 
the southeast side of the Trinity Chapel, and which, though not as 
early as Theobald, to whom it is commonly ascribed, must be of the 
beginning of the thirteenth centnry- 

- An exactly analogous position, by Saint Alban's shrine, is a.s- 



EFFECTS OF THE PRINCE'S LIFE. 177 

Let us turn to that tomb, and see how it sums up 
his whole life. Its bright colors have long since faded, 
but enough still remains to show us what it was as it 
stood after the sacred remains had been placed within 
it. There he lies : no other memorial of him exists in 
the world so authentic. There he lies, as he had di- 
rected, in full armor, his head resting on his helmet, his 
feet with the likeness of " the spurs he won " at Cressy, 
his hands joined as in that last prayer which he had 
offered up on his deathbed. There you can see his fine 
face with the Plantagenet features, the flat cheeks, and 
the well-chiselled nose, to be traced perhaps in the 
effigy of his father in Westminster Abbey and of his 
grandfather in Gloucester Cathedral. On his armor 
you can still see the marks of the bright gilding with 
which the figure was covered from head to foot, so as 
to make it look like an image of pure gold. High 
above are suspended the brazen gauntlets, the helmet, 
with what was once its gilded leopard-crest, and the 
wooden shield ; the velvet coat also, embroidered with 
the arms of France and England, now tattered and col- 
orless, but then blazing with blue and scarlet. There, 
too, still hangs the empty scabbard of the sword 
wielded perchance at his three great battles, and which 
Oliver Cromwell, it is said, carried away.^ On the can- 
opy over the tomb there is the faded representation — 
painted after the strange fashion of those times — of 
the Persons of the Holy Trinity, according to the pecu- 
liar devotion which he had entertained. In the pillais 
you can see the hooks to which was fastened the black 
tapestry, with its crimson border and curious embroi- 

signed in the Abbey of St Albans to the tomb ot Humphrey, Duke of 
Gloucester. 

1 For tlie history of this sword, see A]>peudix. 
12 



178 



EFFECTS OF THE PRINCES LIFE. 



dery, which he dh-ected in his will should be hung round 
his tomb and the shrine of Becket. Eound about the 
tomb, too, you will see the ostrich feathers,^ which, ac- 





SCnCOAT, HELMET, SHIELD, CREST, ETC., OF THE BLACK PRINCE 
SUSPENDED OVER HIS TOMB. 



cording to the old but doubtful tradition, we are told 
he won at Cressy from the blind King of Bohemia, who 
perished in the thick of the fight ; and interwoven with 



1 The Essay hy the late Sir Harris Nicolas, in the " Archseologia," 
vol. xxxii., gives all that can be said on this disputed question. The 
ostrich feathers are first mentioned in 1.369, on the plate of Philippa, 
and were used by all the sons of Edward II., and of all subsequent 
kings, till the time of Arthur, son of Henry VII., after which they 
were appropriated as now to the Prince of Wales. The Black Prince 
had sometimes one ostrich feather, sometimes, as on the tomb, three. 
The old expl.anation given by Camden was that they indicated Jleet- 
ness in discharge of duty. The King of Bohemia's badge was a 
vulture. 



EFFECTS OF THE PRINCE'S LIFE. 179 

them, the famous motto,^ with wliich he used to sign 
his name, Houmout, Ich dieiic. If, as seems most 
Hkely, they are German words, they exactly express 
what we have seen so often in his life, the union of 
Hoch Muth, that is, " hi^^h spirit," with Idi dicn, " I 
serve." They bring before us the very scene itself after 
the battle of Poitiers, where after having vanquished 
the whole French nation he stood behind the captive 
king, and served him like an attendant. 

And, lastly, carved about the tomb, is the long in- 
scription, selected ^ by himself before his death, in Nor- 
man French, still the language of the court, written, 
as he begged, clearly and plainly, that all might read 

1 Houmout — Ich dien. It occurs twice as his autograph signature 
(see Appendix). But its first public appearance is on the tomb, where 
the words ai"e written alternately above the coats of arms, and also on 
the quills of the feathers. It is said, though without sufficient proof, 
that the King of Bohemia had the motto Ich dien from his following 
King Philip as a stipendiary. The Welsh antiquaries maintain that 
it is a Celtic and not a German motto, " Behold the man," — the words 
used by Edward I. on presenting his first-born sou to the Welsh, and 
from him derived to the subsequent Princes of Wales, " Behold the 
man," that is, the male child. 

- " The epitaph is borrowed, with a few variations, from the anony- 
mous French translation of the ' Clericalis Discipliua ' of Petrus Al- 
phonsus, composed between the years 1106 and 1110. In the original 
Latin work it may be found at p. 196, part i., of the edition printed in 
1824 for the Socie'te' des Bibliophiles Fran^ais. The French version is 
of the thirteenth century, and entitled ' Castoiement d'un Pere a son 
Fils.' It was first printed by Barbazan in 1760, and, more completely, 
by Meon in 1808, in whose edition the epitaph may be read (p. 196) 
under the heading of ' D'un Philosophe qui passoit parmi un Cimen- 
tere.' The Black Prince, however, is not the only distinguished per- 
sonage who has availed himself of this inscription ; for more than half 
a century previous it was placed (in an abbreviated form) on the monu- 
ment of the famous John de Wareime, seventh Earl of Surrey, who 
died in 1304, and was buried before the high altar in the priory of 
Lewes. It is printed by Dugdale (not very correctly) in his Baronage, 
i. 80, from the 'Lewes Cartulary,' which is preserved among the Cot- 
tonian MSS. in the British Museum, Vespas. F. xxv." — F. Madden. 




CANOPY OF THE BLACK PKINCE's TOMB IN CANTERBURY 
CATHEDRAL. 



CHIVALRY. 181 

it. Its purport is to contrast his former splendor and 
vigor and beauty with the wasted body which is now 
all that is left. What was a natural thought at all 
times was specially characteristic of this period, as we 
see from the further exemplification of it in Chichele's 
tomb, a hundred years later, where the living man and 
the dead skeleton are contrasted with each other in 
actual representation. But in this case it would be 
singularly affecting, if we can suppose it to have been 
written during the four years' seclusion, when he lay 
wasting away from his lingering illness, his high for- 
tunes overclouded, and death full in prospect. 

"When we stand by the grave of a remarkable man, 
it is always an interesting and instructive question to 
ask, — especially by the grave of such a man and in 
such a place, — What evil is there, which we trust is 
buried with him in his tomb ; what good is there, which 
may still live after him ; what is it that, taking him 
from first to last, his life and his death teach us ? 

First, then, the thought wdiich we most naturally 
connect with the name of the Black Prince is the wars 
of the English and French, — the victories of England 
over France. Out of those wars much noble feeling 
sprang, — feelings of chivalry and courtesy and re- 
spect to our enemies, and (perhaps a doubtful boon) of 
unshaken confidence in ourselves. Such feelings are 
amongst our most precious inheritances, and all honor 
be to him who first inspired them in the hearts of his 
countrymen, never to be again extinct ! But it is a 
matter of still greater thankfulness to remember, as we 
look at the worn-out armor of the Black Prince, tliat 
those wars of English conquest are buried with him, 
never to be revived. Other wars may arise in the un- 



182 CHIVALRY. 

known future still before us ; but such wars as he and 
his father waged, we shall, we may thankfully hope, 
see no more again forever. We shall never again see 
a King of England or a Prince of Wales taking ad- 
vantage of a legal quibble to conquer a great neighbor- 
ing country, and laying waste with fire and sword a 
civilized kingdom from mere self-aggrandizement. We 
have seen how, on the eve of the battle of Poitiers, one 
good man, with a patience and charity truly heroic, did 
strive, by all that Christian wisdom and forbearance 
could urge, to stop that unhallowed warfare. It is a 
satisfaction to think that his wish is accomplished, — 
that what he labored to effect almost as a hopeless pro- 
ject has now wellnigh become the law of the civilized 
world. It is true that the wars of Edward III. and 
the Black Prince were renewed again on a more fright- 
ful scale in the next century, — renewed at the instiga- 
tion of an Archbishop of Canterbury, who strove thus 
to avert the storm which seemed to him to be threat- 
ening the Church ; but these were the last, and the 
tomb and college of Chichele are themselves lasting 
monuments of the deep remorse for his sin which 
smote his declining years. With him finished the 
last trace of those bloody wars : may nothing ever 
arise, in our time or our children's, to break the bond 
of peace between England and Erance, which is the 
bond of the peace of the world ! 

Secondly, he brings be!bre us all that is most charac- 
teristic of the ages of chivalry. You have heard of his 
courtesy, his reverence to age and authority, his gener- 
osity to his fallen enemy. Put before I speak of this 
more at length, here also I must in justice remind you 
that the evil as well as the good of chivalry was seen 
in him, and that this evil, like that which I .spoke of 



SACK OF LIMOGES. 183 

just now, is also, I trust, buried with liim. One single 
instance will show what I mean, in those disastrous 
years which ushered in the close of his life, a rebellion 
arose in his French province of Gascony, provoked by 
his wasteful expenditure. One of the chief towns where 
the insurgents held out, was Limoges. The Prince, 
though then laboring under his fatal illness, besieged 
and took it ; and as soon as it was taken, he gave or- 
ders that his soldiers should massacre every one that 
they found ; whilst he himself, too ill to walk or ride, 
was carried through the streets in a litter, looking on at 
the carnage. ]\Ien, women, and children threw them- 
selves on their knees, as he passed on through the de- 
voted city, crying, " Mercy, mercy ; " but he went on 
relentlessly, and the massacre went on, till, struck by 
the gallantry of three French knights, whom he saw 
fighting in one of the squares against fearful odds, he 
ordered it to cease. Now, for this dreadful scene there 
were doubtless many excuses, — the irritation of ill- 
ness, the affection for his father, whose dignity he 
thought outraged by so determined a resistance, and 
the indignation against the ingratitude of a city on 
which he had bestowed many favors. But what is 
especially to be observed is not so much the cruelty 
of the individual man as the great imperfection of 
that kind of virtue which could allow of such cruelty. 
Dreadful as this scene seems to us, to men of that time 
it seemed quite natural. The poet who recorded it had 
nothing more to say concerning it than that — 

" All the townsmen were taken or slain 
By the noble Prince of price, 
Whereat great joy had all around, 
Those who were his friends ; 
And his enemies were 
Sorely grieved, and repented 
That they had begun the war against him." 



184 FIRST GREAT ENGLISH CAPTAIN, AND 

This strange contradiction arose from one single 
cause. The Black Prince, and those who looked up 
to him as their pattern, chivalrous, kind, and gen- 
erous as they were to their equals and to their imme- 
diate dependants, had no sense of what was due to the 
poor, to the middle and the humbler classes generally. 
He could be touched by the sight of a captive king or 
at the gallantry of the three French gentlemen ; but he 
had no ears to hear, no eyes to see, the cries and groans 
of the fathers and mothers and children, — of the poorer 
citizens, who were not bound to him by the laws of 
honor and of knighthood. It is for us to remember, 
as we stand by his grave, that whilst he has left us the 
legacy of those noble and beautiful feelings which are 
the charm and best ornaments of life, though not its 
most necessary virtues, it is our further privilege and 
duty to extend those feelings towards the classes on 
whom he never cast a thought ; to have towards all 
classes of society, and to make them have towards each 
other and towards ourselves, the high respect and cour- 
tesy and kindness which were then peculiar to one 
class only. 

It is a well-known saying in Shakspeare, that — 

'• The evil which men do lives after them ; 
The good is oft interred with their bones." 

But it is often happily just the reverse, and so it was 
with the Black Prince. His evil is interred with his 
bones ; the good which he has done lives after him, 
and to that good let us turn. 

He was the first great English captain who showed 
what English soldiers were, and what they could do 
against Frenchmen and against all the world He 
was the first English prince who showed what it was 
to be a true gentleman. He was the first, but he was 



FIRST ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 185 

not the last. AVe have seen how, when he died, Eng- 
lishmen thought that all their hopes had died with him. 
But we know that it was not so ; we know that the life of 
a great nation is not bound up with the life of a single 
man ; we know that the valor and the courtesy and 
the chivalry of England are not buried in the grave of 
the Plantagenet Prince, It needs only a glance round 
the country to see that the high character of an Eng- 
lish gentleman, of which the Black Prince was the 
noble pattern, is still to be found everywhere ; and has 
since his time been spreading itself more and more 
through classes which in his time seemed incapable of 
reaching it. It needs only a glance down the nave of 
our own cathedral ; and the tablets on the walls, with 
their tattered Hags, will tell you, in a moment, that he, 
as he lies up there aloft, with his head resting on his 
helmet and his spurs on his feet, is but the first of a 
long line of English heroes, — that the brave men who 
fought at Sobraon and Feroozeshah are the true descend- 
ants of those who fought at Cressy and Poitiers. 

And not to soldiers only, but to all who are engaged 
in the long warfare of life, is his conduct an example. 
To unite in our lives the two qualities expressed in his 
motto, Hock Jlluth and Ich dicn, — "high spirit" and 
" reverent service." — is to be, indeed, not only a true 
gentleman and a true soldier, but a true Christian also 
To show to all who differ from us, not only in war but 
in peace, that delicate forbearance, that fear of hurting 
another's feelings, that happy art of saying the right 
thing to the right person, which he showed to the cap- 
tive king, would indeed add a grace and a charm to the 
whole course of this troublesome world, such as none 
can afford to lose, whether high or low. Happy are 
they who having this gift by birth or station use it for 



186 THE FIRST GREAT ENGLISH CAPTAIN. 

its highest purposes ; still more happy are they who 
having it not by birth and station have acquired it, as 
it may be acquired, by Christian gentleness and Chris- 
tian charity. 

And lastly, to act in all the various difficulties of our 
every-day life with that coolness and calmness, and 
faith in a higher power than his own, which he showed 
when the appalling danger of his situation burst upon 
him at Poitiers, would smooth a hundred difficulties 
and insure a hundred victories. We often think that 
we have no power in ourselves, no advantages of posi- 
tion, to help us against our many temptations, to over- 
come the many obstacles we encounter. Let us take 
our stand by the Black Prince's tomb, and go back once 
more in thought to the distant fields of France. A 
slight rise in the wild upbnd plain, a steep lane through 
vineyards and underwood, — this was all that he had, 
humanly speaking, on his side ; but he turned it to the 
utmost use of which it could be made, and won the 
most glorious of battles. So, in like manner, our ad- 
vantages may be slight, — hardly perceptible to any but 
ourselves, — let us turn them to account, and the re- 
sults will be a hundred-fold ; we have only to adopt the 
Black Prince's bold and cheering words when first he 
saw his enemies, " God is my help, I mud figlit them as 
hcst I can;'' adding that lofty yet resigned and humble 
prayer which he uttered when the battle was an- 
nounced to be inevitable, and which has since become 
a proverb, — " God defend the Tights 



The Gateway. 



APPENDIX AND NOTES. 

By MR. ALBERT WAY. 



I. — Ordinance by Edward the Black Prince, for the Two 
Chantries, founded by him in the Undercroft of 
the South Transept, Christ Church, Canterbury. 
Recited in the Confirmation by Simon Islip, Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury, of the Assent and Ratification 
b}^ the Prior and Chapter. Dated August 4, 1363. 

Orig. Charter in the Treasury, Canterbury, No. 145.^ 

Universis sancte matris ecclesie filiis ad quos presentes 
litere proveneinnt, Prior et Capituhim ecclesie Christi Can- 
tuariensis salutem in omnium Salvatore. Ordinacionem 
duarnm Cantariarum in ecclesia predicta fundatarum, unius 
videlicet in honore Sancte Trinitatis, et alterius in honore 
Virginis gloriose, inspeximus diligenter, Cujus quidera or- 
dinacionis tenor sequitur in hec verba. Excellencia principis 
a regali descendens prosapia, quanto in sua posteritate am- 
plius ditfunditur et honorificencius sublimatur, tanto ad 
serviendum Deo prompcior esse debet, et cum devota gra- 
ciarum accione capud suum sibi humiliter inclinare, ne aliter 
pro ingratitudine tanti muneris merito sibi subtrahatur 
beneficium largitiors. Sane nos, Edwardus, Princeps Wallie 

1 This document is copied in the Registers B. 2, fo. 46, and F. 8, fo. 83, 
vo, under this title, " Littera de Institucione duaruni cantariarum domini 
Principis." In the text here given the contracted words are printed in ex- 
tenso. I acknowledge with much gratification the privilege liberally granted 
to me of examining the ancient charters in the Treasury, amongst which 
this unpublished document has been found. 



188 OEDINANCE BY THE BLACK PRINCE 

et sereiiissimi Principis ac domiui nostri, domini Edwardi 
illustris Eegis Auglie, primogenitus, prideni cupientes ad 
exaltacionein paterni solii nobis muliereru de geuere suo 
clarissimo recipere in sociara et uxorem, denmm post de- 
liberaciones varias super diversis nobis oblatis matrimo- 
niis, ad nobilem mulierem, dominam Johannam Comitissam 
Kancie, consanguineam dicti patris nosti'i et nostram, ipsam 
videlicet in secnndo, et nos in tercio consanguinitatis gra- 
dibus contingentem, Dei pocius inspirante gracia quam 
hominis suasione, convertimus totaliter mentem nostram, 
et ipsam, de consensu dicti domini patris nostri et aliorum 
parentum nostrorum, dispensacione sedis apostolice super 
impedimento hnjusmodi et aliis quibus libet pi'imitus ob- 
tenta, preelegimns et assumpsimus in uxorem ; Injuncto 
nobis etiam per prius eadem auctoritate apostolica qnod 
dnas Cantarias quadraginta jVIarcarum obtentu dispensa- 
cionis predicte ad honorem Dei perpetuus faceremus.-^ Xos 
vero, in Deo sperantes firmiter per acceptacionem humilem 
Injunccionis hnjus, et efficax ipsins complementum nupcias 
nostras Deo reddere magis placabiles, et paternum solium 
per adeo sibi propinqne sobolis propagacionem condecenter 
diffundere et firmius stabilire. ad honorem Sancte Trinitatis, 
quam peculiari devocione semper colimus, et beatissime 
Marie, et beati Thome Martyris, infra muros ecclesie Christi 
Cantuariensis, matris nostre precipue et metropolitis, ad 
quam a cunabilis " nostris devocionem mentis ereximus, in 
quodam loco ex parte australi ejnsdem ecclesie constituto, 
quern ad hoc, de consensu reverendissimi in Christo patris, 
domini Simonis Dei gracia Cantuariensis Archiepiscopi, 
tocius Anglie Primatis et apostolice sedis Legati, et religi- 
osorum virorum Prioris et Capituli ipsius ecclesie, designavi- 
mus, duas capellas, quarum una Sancte Trinitatis intitula- 
bitur, et altera beate et gloriose Virginis Marie, sub duabus 
cantariis duximus construendas, ut sic ad dictam ecclesiam 

1 See the Bulls of Pope Innocent VI., concerning the marriage of the 
Prince with the Coiintess of Kent, Rymer, Feed, deit 1830, vol. iii. part ii. 
pp. 627, 632. 2 Sic in the original. 



FOR THE TWO CHANTRIES. 189 

confluentes, et capellns nostras intuentes, pro conjugii nostri 
prosperitate animarumque nostrarum salute deum exurare 
propencius exciteiitur. In nostris vero Cantariis ex nunc 
volumus et statuimus, quod sint duo sacerdotes idonei, 
sobrii et honesti, nou contenciosi, non querelarum aut litium 
assumptores, non incontinentes, aut aliter notabiliter viciosi, 
quorum correccio, punicio, admissio et destitucio ad Archi- 
episcopum, qiii tempore fuerit, loci diocesanum pertiueat et 
debeat pertinere, eorem tamen statum volumus esse per- 
petuum, nisi per mensem et amplius a Cantaiiis suis 
hujusmodi absque causa racionabili et licencia a domino 
Cantuariensi Archiepiscopo, si in diocesi sua presens fuerit, 
vel aliter a Priore dicti monasterii, petita pariter et optenta, 
absentes fuerint ; vel nisi viciosi et insolentes trina moni- 
cione per temporum competencium intervalla, vel aliter 
trina correccione emendati, ab insolenciis suis desistere non 
curaverint ; quos tunc incorrigibiles seu intolerabiles cense- 
mus, et volumus per predictum ordinarium reputari, et 
propterea a dicta Cantaria penitus amoveri, nulla appella- 
cione aut impetracione sedis Apostolice vel i"egis, aut alii ^ 
juris communis seu spiritualis remedio amoto hujusmodi 
aliqualiter valitura. Primum vero et principaliorem domi- 
num Johannem Curteys, de Weldone, et dominum Willel- 
mum Bateman, de Giddingg', secundarium, in eisdem nomi- 
namias, et constituimus sacerdotes, quorum principalis in 
altari Sancte Trinitatis, et alter in altari beate ]\Iarie, cum 
per dominum Archiepiscopum admissi fuerint, pro statu 
salubri nostro, prosperitate matrimonii nostri, dum vixeri- 
mus, et animabus nostris, cum ab hac luce subtract! fueri- 
mus, cotidie celebrabunt, nisi infirmitate aut alia causa 
racionabili fuerint perpediti. Cum vero alter eorum ces- 
serit loco suo, vel decesserit, aut ipsum dimiserit, Nos, Ed- 
wardus predictus, in vita nostra, et post mortem nostram 
Rex Anglie, qui pro tempore fuerit, ad locum sit vacantem 
quern pro tunc secundum censemus quam cicius comode 

1 This word is contracted in the original al'. The reading may be alii 
or aUter. 



190 ORDINANCE BY THE BLACK PRINCE 

poterimns, saltern infra unius mensis spaciuni, dicto domino 
Archiepiscopo presentabinius et uominabimus ydoneum sa- 
cerdotem ; et sic, quocienscunque vacavei-it, imperpetuum 
volumus observari. Alioquin elapso hujusmodi tempore 
liceat Archiepiscopo ilia vice loco sic vacante de sacerdote 
ydoneo providere, salvo jure nostro et successorum nostro- 
rum in hac parte, ut prefertur, in pi'oxima vacatione alterius 
sacerdotis. Volumns ineuper et ordinamus quod dictus 
Archiepiscopus, qui fuerit, significata sibi morte per literas 
nostras aut successorum nostrorum liujusmodi vel aliter per 
literas Capellani qui supervixerit, aliquo sigillo autentico 
roboratas, statim absque inquisicione alia sive difficultate 
qualibet presentatum seu nominatum hujusmodi admittat, et 
literas suas suo consacerdoti et non alteri super admissione 
sua dirigat sive mittat. Dicent vero dicti sacerdotes insimul 
matutinas et ceteras boras canonicas in capella, videlicet 
sancte 'i'rinitatis, necnon et septem psalmos penitenciales 
et quindecim graduales et commendacionem ante prandium, 
captata ad hoc una hora vel pluribus, prout viderint expe- 
dire. Et post prandium vesperas et completorium necnon 
placebo et dirige pro defunctis. Celebrabit insuper uterque 
ipsorum singulis diebus prout sequitur, nisi aliqua causa 
legitima sicut premittitur fuerint prepediti, unus eorum 
videlicet singxdis diebus dominicis de die, si voluerit, vel 
aliter de Trinitate, et alter eonmi de officio mortuorum, 
vel aliter de beata Virgine Maria. Feria secunda unus de 
festo novem lectionum, si acciderit, vel aliter de Angelis, 
et alius de officio mortuorum, vel de Virgine gloriosa. 
Feria tercia alter eorum de beato Thoma, et alius de beata 
Virgine vel officio mortuorum, nisi aliquod festum novem 
leccionum advcnerit, tunc enim missa de beato Thoma po- 
terit pi'etermitti. Feria quarta, si a festo novem leccio- 
num vacaverit, imus de Trinitate et alter de beata Maria 
virgine vel officio moi'tuorum. Feria quinta unus de festo 
Corporis Christi, et alius de beata Virgine vel officio mor- 
tuorum, si a festo novem leccionurn vacaverit. Feria sexta, 
si a festo novem leccionum vacaverit, vmus de beata Cruce 



FOR THE TWO CHANTRIES. 191 

et alter do beata A'irgiue vel officio mortuorum. Singulis 
diebus sabbati, si a festo novem leccionem vacaverit, unus 
de beata Yirgiue et alter de officio mortuorum. Et hoc 
modo celebrabunt singulis diebus imperpetuum, et iiou 
celebrabunt simul et eadem hora, sed uuus post alium, 
successive. Ante vero introitum missi quilibet rogabit et 
rogari publico faciat celebraus pro statu salubri utriusque 
nostrum dum vixerimus, et pro animabus nostris, cum ab 
hac luce migraverimus, et dicet Pater et Ave, et in singulis 
missis suis dum vixerimus de quocunque celebraverint col- 
lectam illam, — "Deuscujus misericordie non est numerus," 
et, cum ab hac miseria decesserimus, — " Deus venie lar- 
gitor," cum devocione debita recitabunt. Et volumus quod 
post missas suas vel ante, secundum eorum discrecionem 
difFerendum vel anticipandum, cum doctor aut lector alius 
in claustro monachorum more solito legerit ibidem, nisi 
causa legitima prepediti fuerint, personaliter intersint, et 
doctrine sue corditer intendant, ut sic magis edocti Deo 
devocius et perfectius obsequantur. Principali vero sacer- 
dote de medio sublato, aut aliter loco suo qualitercumque 
vacante, socius suus, qui tunc superstes fuerit, sicut pre- 
diximus locum Principaliorem occupabit, et secundum lo- 
cum tenebit novus assumendus. Ordinamus etiani quod 
dicti sacerdotes singulis annis semel ad minus de eadem 
secta vestiantur, et quod non utantur brevibus vestimentis 
sed talaribus secundum decenciam sui status. Pro mora 
siquidem dictorum sacerdotum assignavimus quemdam habi- 
tacionis locum juxta Elemosinariam dicti Monasterii, in quo 
construetur ad usum et habitacionem eorum una Aula com- 
munis in qua simul cotidianam sument refeccionem, una 
cum quadam Camera per Cancellum dividenda, ita quod in 
uti-aque parte sic divisa sit locus sufficiens pro uno lecto 
competenti, necnon et pro uno camino nostris sumptibus 
erigendo. Ita tameu quod camera hujusmodi unicum ha- 
beat ostium pro Capellanorum ingressu et egressu. Cujus 
locum divisum viciniorem principaliori sacerdoti intitulari 
volumus et mandamus ; sub qua Camera officia eis utilia 



192 ORDINANCE BY THE BLACK PRINCE 

constituent prout eis magis vidcbitur expedire. Coquinam 
etiam habebunt competentem ; quas quidem domus nostris 
primo sumptibus construendas prefati religiosi viri, Prior et 
Capitulum, quociens opus fuerit, reparabunt ac eciam re- 
formabinit. De liabitacione vero ipsorum hujusniodi libe- 
rum habebunt ingressum ad dictas capellas, et regressum 
Ijro temporibus et horis coinpetentibus, ac retroactis tempo- 
ribus pro ingressu seculariuni consuetis. Comedent eciam 
insimul in Aula sua cum perfecta fuerit, in ipsorum quo- 
que cameris, et non alibi, requiescent. Ad hec dicti 
sacerdotes vestimenta et alia ornamcnta dicte Capelle as- 
signanda fideliter conservabunt, et cum niundacioue aut 
reparacione aliqua indigeriut, predicti religiosi viri, Prior 
et Capitulum suis sumptibus fjxcient reparari, et alia nova 
quociens opus fuerit inveteratis et inutilibus subrogabunt. 
Percipiet quidem uterque eorundem sacerdotum annis sin- 
gulis de ^ Priore et Capitulo supradictis viginti marcas ad 
duos anni terminos, videlicet, ad festa sancti Michaelis et 
.Pasche, per equales porciones, necnon ab eisdem Priore 
et Capitulo ministrabitur ipsis Capellanis de pane, vino, et 
cera, ad snfficienciam, pro divinis officiis celebrandis. Ita 
videlicet quod in matutinis, vesperis et horis sit continue 
cereus unus accensus, et missa quacumque duo alii cerei ad 
utrumque altai'e predictum. Quod si prefati Prior et Capi- 
tulum dictas pecunie summas in aliquo dictorum termi- 
norum, ccssante causa legitima, solvere distulerint ultra 
triginta dies ad majus, extunc sint ipso facto ab execucione 
divinorum officiorum, suspensi, quousque ipsis Capellanis de 
arreragiis fuerit plenarie satisfactum. Pro supportacione 
vero predictorum onerum dictis Priori et Capitulo, ut pre- 
mittitur, incumbencium, de licencia excellentissimi Principis 
domini patris nostri supradicti dedimus, conccssimus et 
assignavimus eisdem Priori et Capitulo, eorumque succes- 
soribus, manerium nostrum de Faukeshalle juxta London', 
prout in cartis ejusdem patris nostri et nostris plenius 
continetur. Jurabit insuper uterque eorundem sacerdotum 

1 In the original, et Priore, 



FOR THE TWO CHANTRIES. 193 

coram domino Archiepiscopo, qui pro tempore fuerit, iu ad- 
missione sua, quod banc ordinaciouem nostram observabit 
et faciet, quantum einii concernit et sibi facultas prestabitur, 
in omnibus observari. Juralnmt insuper iidem sacerdotes 
Priori dicti Loci obedienciam, et quod nullum dampnum 
inferent dicto monasterio vel personis ejusdem injuriam seu 
gravamen, lliirsum, si in prescnti nostra ordinacione pro- 
cessu temporis inveniatur aliquod dabium seu obscurum, 
illud interpretandi, innovandi, corrigendi et eidem ordina- 
cioni nostre addendi, diminuendi et declarandi, nobis quam- 
diu vixerimus, et post mortem nostram reverendo patri, 
domino Archiepiscopo Cantuariensi, qui pro tempore fuerit, 
specialiter reservamus.-^ Cui quidem ordinacioni sic salu- 
briter composite et confccte tenore presencium nostrum 
prebemus assensum, onera nobis in eadem imposita agnos- 
cimus, et cetera in eadem ordinacione contenta, quantum 
ad nos attinet vel attinere in futurum potent, approbamus, 
ratiticamus, et eciam confirmamus. In quorum omnium 
testimonium sigillum nostrum commune presentibus est 
appensum. Datum in domo nostra Capitulari Cantuar' ij". 
Xon' Augusti, Anno domini Millesimo Trescentesimo sexa- 
gesimo tercio. Et nos, Simon, permissione divina Archi- 
episcopus Cautuariensis, supradictus, permissa omnia et 
singula quatenus ad nos attinet autorizamus, approbamus, 
ratificamus et tenore presencium auctoritate nostra ordinaria 
confirmamus. In cujus rei testimonium sigillum nostrum fe- 
cimus hiis apponi. Datum eciam Cantuar' die, anno et loco 
supi'adictis, et nostre consecracionis anno quartodecimo. 

(L. S. Seal lost.) 
Endorsed. — Confirmacio Archiepiscopi et Conventus super 

Cantai'ias Edwardi principis Wallie in ecclesia nostra in 

criptis.2 In a later hand, — Duplex. 

1 The word jus seems to be omitted in this sentence, of which the sense 
as it stands is incomplete. Here the recital of the Ordinance ends. 

2 This document bears the following numbers, by which it has been 
classed at various times: 45 (erased.) — Duplex vi. (erased) A — C. 166. 
— C. 145; tlie latter being the right reference, according to the Indices now 
in use. 

13 



194 WILL OF THE BLACK PKINCE. 



IL — THE WILL OF EDWARD PRINCE OF WALES, 
A. D. 1376.1 

CopiA Testamenti Frincipis Wall'. 

{Reyister of Archbishop Sudbury, in the Registry at Lambeth, Jhl. 90 6, 
and 91 a and b.) 

En noun du Pere, du Filz, et de Saint Espirit, Amen. K^ous, 
Ednuard, eisne filz du Roy d'Engletere et de Fraunce, prince 
de Gales, due de Cornwaille, et counte de Cestre, le vij. jour 
de Juyn, I'an de grace mil troiscentz septantz et sisme, en 
notre chambre dedeyns le palois de notre tresredote seig- 
nour et pere le Roy k West'm esteantz en bon et sain me- 
moire, et eiantz consideracion a le brieve duree de humaine 
freletee, et come non certeiu est le temps de sa resolucion a, 
la divine volunte, et desiranz toujourz d'estre prest ove 
I'eide de dieu a sa disposicioun, ordenons et fesons notre 
testament en la manere qe ensuyt. Primerement nous 
devisons notre alme a Dieu notre Creatour, et a la seinte 
benoite Trinite et a la glorieuse virgine Marie, et a tons lez 
sainz et seintez ; et notre corps d'estre enseveliz en I'eglise 
Cathedrale de la Trinite de Canterbirs, ou le corps du vray 
mai'tir monseignour Seint Tliomas repose, en mylieu de la 
chapelle de notre dame Under Crofte, droitement devant 
I'autier, siqe le bout de notre tombe devers les pees soit dix 
peez loinz de I'autier, et qe mesme la tombe soit de marbre 
de bone masouerie faite. Et volons qe entour la ditte tombe 
soient dusze escuchons de latone, chacun de la largesse d'un 
pie, dont les syx seront de noz armez entiers, et les autres six 

1 The following document was printed by Mr. Nichols in his " Collec- 
tion of Royal Wills," i>. 66. It is here given with greater accuracy, 
through careful collation of the transcript in Archbishop Sudbury's Reg- 
ister at Lambeth. The remarkable interest of the will as connected with 
the Prince's interment and tomb at Canterbury may fully justify its 
reproduction in this volume. 



WILL OF THE BLACK PRINCE. 195 

des plumz d'ostruce, et qe sur chacun escucbon soit escript, 
c'est assaveir sur cellez de noz armez et sur les autres des 
plumes d'ostruce, — Houmout.^ Et paramont '^ la tombe soit 
fait un tablement de latone suzorrez de largesse et longure 
de meisme la tombe, sur quel uouz volons qe un ymage 
d'overeigne levez de latouu suzorrez soit mys en memorial 
de nous, tout armez de fier de guerre de nous armez quar- 
tillez et le visage mie, ove notre heaume du leopard mys 
dessouz la teste del ymage, Et volons qe sur notre tombe 
en lieu ou len le purra plus clerement lire en veoir soit es- 
cript ce qe ensuit, en la uuuiere qe sera mielz avis a noz 
executours : — 

Tu qe passez ove bouehe close, par la ou cest corps repose 

Euteiit ce qe te dirray, sicuuie te dire la say, 

Tiel come tu es, Je au ciel '^ fu, 'I'u seras tiel come Je su, 

De la mort ue pensay je mie, Taut come j'avoy la vie. 

Eu terre avoy graud richesse, dout Je y fys grand uoblesse, 

Terre, mesous, et grand tresor, draps, chivalx, argeut et or. 

Mes ore su je povres et clieitifs, perfoud en la terre gys, 

Ma grand beaute est tout alee, Ma char est tout gastee. 

Moult est estroite ma meson, Kn moy ua si verite non, 

Et si ore me veissez, Je ue quidf pas qe \ous deeisez, 

Qe j'eusse onqes hom este, si sn je ore de tout chane:ee. 

Pur Uieu pries au celestien * Roy, qe mercy eit de I'arme^ de moy 

1 The escutcheons on the Prince's tomb are not in conformity with these 
directions. Over those charged with his arms appears the word houmout 
on a little scroll, whilst over those bearing the three ostrich feathers is the 
motto, ich diene. There is probably an omission in the transcript of this 
passage in the Lambeth Register. The reading in the original document 
may have been, " Sur cellez de noz armez — ich diene — est sur les autres 
des plumes d'ostruce — houmout." Representations of these escutcheons 
as also of the altar tomb, showing their position, were given, with the 
beautiful etchings of the figure of the Prince, in Stotliard's Monumental 
Effigies. Representations on a larger scale will be found in the notes 
subjoined. See pages 207, 208. 

2 " Par-amont, en haut." — Roquefort. 

3 Thus in the manuscript. On the tomb the reading here is autiel ; 
doubtless the word intended. " Auteil ; pared, de meine.'' — Roquefort. 

* The correct reading may be celestieu, Roquefort gives both celestiau 
and celestien. 

5 Thus written, as likewise on the tomb. Roquefort gives " Arme ; 
ame, esprit," etc. 



196 WILL OF THE BLACK PEINCE. 

Tout cil qe jHir moi prieroiit, oa a Dieu m'acorderoiit, 

Dieu les inette eu sou parays,^ {sic) on uul ue poet estre cheitifs.^ 

Et volons qe a quele heure qe iiutre corps soit amewez par 
my la ville de Caiiterbirs tantqe a la priorie, qe deux destrex 
covertz de noz arniez, et deux honimez armez en noz armez 
et en noz heaumes voisent devant dit notre corps, c'est assa- 
voir, I'uu pur la guerre de noz armez entiers quartellez, et 
I'autre pur la paix de noz bages des plumes d'ostruce ove 
quatre baueres de mesme la sute, et qe chacum de ceux qe 
porteront lez ditz baneres ait sur sa teste un chapeu de noz 
amies. Et qe cell qe sera ai'mez pur la guerre ait un homme 
armez portant a pres li un penon de noir ove plurnes d'ostruce. 
Et volons qe lu herce soit fait entre le haut autier et le cuer, 
dedeyns le quel nous voloms qe notre corps soit posee, tant- 
qe les vigiliez, messes et les divines services soient faites ; 
lesquelx services ensi faitez, soit notre corps portes en I'avant 
dite chappelle de notre dame ou il sera ensevillez. Item, nous 
donnons et devisoms al haut autier de la dite eglise notre 
vestement de velvet vert embroudez d'or, avec tout ce qe 
apperptient (sic) au dit vestement. Item, deux bacyns d'or 
lui chalix avec le patyn d'or, noz armez graves sur le pie, et 
deux cruetz d'or, et un ymage de la Trinite a mettre sur le 
dit autier, et noti-c grande croix d'argent suzorrez et enamel- 
lez, c'est assavoir la meliour croix qe nous avons d'argent ; 
toutes lesqueles chosez nouz donnons et devisons au dit au- 
tier a y servir perpetuelement, sainz jammes le mettre en 
autre oeps pur nul mischiefs. Item, nous donnons et devi- 
soiis al autier de notre dame en la chappelle surdite notre 
blank vestiment tout entier diapree d'une vine ^ d'azure, et 

1 Mr. Nichols printed this word paradys as Weever, Dart, Sandford, 
and others had given it. On the tomb the reading is ixvray, which usu- 
ally signifies in old French, paroi, mur, Lat. paries. Compare Roque- 
fort, " Paradis, parehids, parvis, place qui est devant line eglise, etc., 
en has Lat. parvisius." 

2 The inscription as it actually appears on the tomb is not liteially in 
accordance with the transcript here given, but the various readings are not 
of importance. The inscription is given accurately by Mr. Kempe in the 
account of the tomb, in Stothard's Monumental Effigies. 

3 This word is iirinted by Mr. Nichols tine. The wliite tissue was 



WILL or THE BLACK PRINCE. 197 

fiuxi Ivi iroutel qe Fevesqe d'Excestre nous donna, q'est de I'as- 
suinpcion de uotre dame en mylieu severee d'or et d'autre 
ymagerie, et un tabernacle de russumpcioun de notre dame, 
qe le dit evesqe nous donna auxi, et deux graudez chande- 
labres d'argent qe sont tortillez, et deux bacyns de noz armez 
et un grand chalix suzorre et enameillez des armez de Gar- 
renne, ove deux cruetz taillez come deux angeles, pur servir 
a mesme I'autier perpetuelement, sainz jamez le mettre en 
autre oeps pur nul meschief. Item, nous donnons et devi- 
sons notre sale ^ des plumes d'ostruce de tapicerie noir et la 
bordure rouge, ove cignes ove testez de dames, cest assavoir 
un dossier, et huyt pieces pur lez costers, et deux banqueres, 
a la dit esglise de Canterbirs. Et volons qe le dossier soit 
taillez ensi come mielz sera avis a noz executours pur servir 
devant et entour le haut autier, et ce qe ne busoignera a 
servir illec du remenant du dit dossier, et auxi Ics ditz ban- 
queres, volons qe soit departiz a servir devant I'autier la ou 
monseignour saint Thomas gist, et a I'autier la ou la teste 
est, et a, I'autier la ou la poyute de I'espie est, et entour 
notre corps en la dite chappelle de notre dame Undercrofte, 
si avant come il purra suffiere. Et voloms qe les costres de 
la dit Sale soient pur pendre en le quer tout du long para- 
mont les estallez, et en ceste manere ordenons a servir et 
estre user en memorial de nous, a la feste de la Trinite, et 
a toutz lez principalez festes de I'an, et a lez festes et jour 
de Monseignour saint Thomas, et a toutez lez festes de notre 
dame, et les jnurs auxi de notre anniversaire perpetuelement, 
tant come ils purront durer sainz jamez estre mys en autre 
oeps. Item, nous donnons et devisons a notre chapelle de 
ceste noti'e dite dame Undercrofte, en la quele nous avoms 
fondes une chanterie de deux chapellayns a chanter pur nous 
perpetuelement, nostre missal et nostre portehors, lesquelx 

probably diapered with a trailing or branched pattern in azure, in form of 
a vine. 

1 A complete set of hangings for a chamber was termed a "Hall " (sal/'), 
and by analogy a large tent or pavilion formed of several pieces was called a 
" Hall ;" the hanging'^ ('iidea) were also called " Hallynges." 



198 WILL OF THE BLACK PRINCE. 

nous mesmesavons fait fuire et eiilimyner de noz armures en 
diversez lieiix, et auxi de uus bages dez plumes d'ostruce ; et 
ycelx missal et portehors ordeuons a servir perpetuelement 
en la dite chappelle sainz James le mettre en autre oeps pur 
nul meschief ; et de toutez cestes choses chargeons les amies 
des Priour et Convent de la dite eglise, sicome ils vorront re- 
spondre devant Dieu. Item, nous donnons et divisons a la dite 
chappelle deux vestementz sengles, cest assavoir, aube, amyt, 
chesyble, estole et tanon, avec tovvaille covenables a chacum 
des ditz vestementz, a servir auxi en la dite chapelle perpet- 
uelement. Item, nous donnons et devisons notre grand table 
d'or et d'argent tout pleyn dez preoieuses reliques, et en my 
lieu un croix de ligno sancte crucis, et la dite table est garniz 
di perres et de perles, c'est assavoir, vingt cynq baleis, trent 
quatre safirs, cinquant oyt perles grosses, et plusours autres 
safirs, emeraudes et perles petitz, a la haut autier de notre 
meson d'Assherugge q'est de notre fundacioun,^ a servir per- 
petuelement an dit autier, sanz jamez le mettre en autre 
oeps pur nul meschief; et de ce chargeons les ai'mes du 
Rectour et du Convent de la dite meson a respondre devant 
Dieu. Item, nous donnons et devisons le remenant de touz 



1 Mr. Nichols .supposes this to be the Augustine College at Ashridge, 
Bucks, founded by Edmund, Earl of Cornwall, about 1283, but he was un- 
able to trace any part taken by the Black Prince in the affairs of that 
house. In the last edition of Dugdale's Monasticon, vi. 515, it is stated 
that a copy of the statutes given to this house about a century after the 
foundation is preserved at Ashridge House. These, therefore, may have 
been given in the times of the Black Prince. 

A copy of the Ashridge Statutes is now at A.shridge ; the originals being 
in the Episcopal Registry of Lincoln. They hear date April 20, 1-376, just 
before the Prince's death. He is expressly called the founder ; and the 
reason given is, that he granted money for the maintenance of twenty 
brethren, — which was the number of the original foundation, thoiigh, owing 
to want of funils, seven priests only had been hitlierto on the list. Arch- 
deacon Todd (in a privately printed history of Berkhamstead) observes 
that there is a similar instance of the Prince claiming as his own founda- 
tion what was really founded by the Earl of Cornwall at Wallingford, which 
the Prince calls •'' notre chapelle," though he only re-established it. 

For this information T am indebted to the Rev. J. W. Cobb, formerly 
curate of Berkhamstead. 



WILL OF THE BLACK PRINCE. 199 

noz vestimentz, draps d'or, le tabernacle de la Resurree- 
cioun, deux cixtes ^ d'argent siizorrez et enameillez d'une 
sute, croix, chalix cruetz, chandelabres, bacjns, liveres, et 
touz noz autrez ornementz appetenantz a seinte eglise, a 
notre chapelle de saint Nicholas dedeynz notre chastel de 
Walyngforde,^ a y servir et demurer perpetuelement, sanz 
jamez le mettre eu autre oeps ; et de ceo chargeons les 
armes des doien et souz doyen de la dite chapelle a respon- 
dre devant Dieu, horspris toutesfoiz le vestement blu avec 
rosez d'or et plumes d'ostruce, liquel vestement tout entier 
avec tout ce qe appertient a ycelle nous donnons et devisons 
a notre filz Richard, ensemble avec le lit qe nous avons de 
mesme la sute et tout I'apparaille du dit lit, lequele notre 
tresredote seignour et pere le Roy nous donna. Item, nous 
donnons et devisons a notre dit filz notre lit palee de baude- 
kyn et de camaca rouge q'est tout novel, avec tout ce qe 
appertient au dit lit. Item, nous donons et devisons a 
notre dit filz notre grand lit des angeles enbroudez, avec 
les quissyns, tapitz, coverture, linceaux et tout entierement 
I'autre apparalle appertienant au dit lit. Item, nous don- 
nons et devisons a notre dit filz la Sale d'arras du pas de 
Saladyn, et auxi la Sale de Worstede embroudez avec mer- 
myns de mier, et la bordure de rouge de noir pales et em- 
broudes de cignes ove testez de dames et de plumes d'ostruce, 
lesqueles Sales nous volons qe notre dit filz ait avec tout ce 
qe appartient a ycelle. Et quant a notre vesselle d'argent, 
porce qe nous pensons qe nous receumes avec notre com- 
paigne la princesse au temps de notre manage, jusqes a la 
value de sept centz marcs d'esterlinges de la vesselle de 
notre dit compaigne, Nous volons qe elle ait du notre tantqe 
a la dite value ; et du remenant de notre dit vesselle nous 
volons qe notre dit filz ait unepartie covenable pur son estat, 
solonc I'avis de noz executours. Item, nous donnons et devi- 

1 Cistes, cistce, shrines. 

2 Of this collegiate chapel, see the last edition of Dngdale's Monasticon, 
vi. 1330. In 1356 tlie Prince had granted to it the advowson of the church 
of Harewell, Berkshire. 



•200 WILL OF THE BLACK PKINCE. 

sons a notre dit compaigne la princesse la Sale de Wurstede 
rouge d'egles et griffons embrcudez, avec la bordare de cignes 
ove testes de dames. Item, nons devisoms a Sire Roger de 
Claryndone ^ un lit de soie solonc I'avis de noz executours, 
avec tout ce qe appertient au dit lit. Item, nous donnons 
et devisons a Sire Robert de Walsham notre confessour un 
grand lit de rouge camoca avec noz armes embrondes a 
checum cornere, et le dit Camaka est diapreez en li mesmes 
des armes de Hereford, avec le celure entiere, curtyns, quis- 
syns, traversin, tapitz de tapiterie, et tout entierment I'autre 
apparaille. Item, nous donnons et devisons a. mons'r Alayn 
Cheyne notre lit de camoca blank poudres d'egles d'azure, 
c'est assavoir, quilte, dossier, celure entiere, curtyns, quis- 
syns, traversyn, tapiz, et tout entierement I'autre apparaille. 
Et tout le remenant de noz biens et chateaux auxi bien 
vessel d'or et joialx come touz autere biens ou q'ils soieut, 
outre ceux qe nous avons dessuz donnes et devisez come dit 
est, auxi toutez maneres des dettes a nous duex, en queconqe 
manere qe ce soit, ensemble avec touz les issuez et profitz qe 
purront sourdre et avenir de touz nos terrez et seignouries, 
par trois ans a pres ce qe dieux aura faite sa volonte de nous, 
lesquelx profitz notre dit seignour et pere nous a ottroiez pur 
paier noz dettetz. Nous ordenons et devisoms si bien pur les 
despenz funerales qe convenront necessairement estre faites 
pur nostre estat, come pur acquiter toutez noz dettez par les 
mains de noz executours, sique ils paient primerement les dis 
despencz funerales, et apres acquiptent principalement toutez 
les debtes par nous loialement dehues. Et cestes choses et 
perfoui'mez come dit est si rien remeint de noz ditz biens et 
chateaux, nous volons qe adonqes noz ditz executours solonc 
la quantite enguerdonnent noz povres servantz egalement 



1 Sir Roger was a natural son of the Prince, bom prohal)]y at Clarendon, 
and thence named. See Sandford, Geneal. Hist., p. 189. He was made one 
of the knights of the chamber to his half-brother, Richard II., who granted 
to him an annuity of £100 per anmim. in 1389. He bore Or, on a bend, Sa, 
three ostrich feathers .,4rf7. ,the quills transfixed through as many scrolls 
of the first. 



WILL OF THE BLACK PRINCE. 201 

selonc leur degreez et desertes si avunt come ils puiTont 
avoir informacione de ceiix qe en ont melliour cognissance, 
si come ils en vovront respondre devant Dieu au jour de 
Juggement, on mil ne sera jngge qe un seul. Et quant a 
les annuytes qe nous avons dounes a noz chivalers, esquiers, 
et autres noz servitours, en gueredon des services q'ils nous 
ont fait et des travalx q'ils ont eeu entonr nous, notre en- 
tiere et darriene volunte est qe les dictes annuytees estoisent, 
et qe touz ceux asquelx nous les avons donnes en soient bien 
et loialernent serviz et paiez, solonc le purport de notre doun 
et de noz letres quels en ont de nous. Et chargeoms notre 
filz Richard sur notre beneson de tenir et confermer a che- 
ciim quantqe nous lour avons ensi donnez, et si avant come 
Dieu nous a donnez poair sur notre dit filz nouz li donuons 
notre malison s"il empesche on soeftre estre empesches en 
quantqe en il est notre dit doun. Et de cesj notre testa- 
ment, liqnel nous volons estre tenuz et perfourmez pur notre 
darreine volunte, fesons et ordenons noz executors notre tres- 
cher et tresame frere d'Espaigne, Due de Lancastre, les rev- 
erenz peres en Dieu, William Evesqe de Wyncestre,^ Johan 
Evesqe de Bathe,^ William Evesqe de Saint Assaphe,^ notre 
trescher en Dieu sire Robert de Walsham notre confessour, 
Hughe de Segrave Senescal de noz terres, Aleyn de Stokes, 
et Johan de Fordham ; lesquelx nous prioms, requerons et 
chargeoms de executer et acomplir loialment toutez les 
choses susdites. En tesmoignance de toutez et checunes les 
choses susdites nous avons fait mettre a cest notre testament 
et darreine volunte nous prive et secree sealx,* et avons 



1 Willinm of Wykeham, Bishop of Winchester. 1367-1404. 

2 John Harewell, Cliancellor of Gascony and Chaplain to the Prince, 
was Bishop of Batl), 1-366-1386. 

8 William de Springlington was appointed Bisliop of St. Asaph, Feb. 4, 
1376, in the same year that the Prince's will is dated. 

■* This expression deserves notice, as showing the distinction hptween the 
Sigillum privatum and the secretmn. The seals of the Black Prince are 
numerous ; eight are described by Sir H. Nicolas in his Memoir (Archso- 
logia, xxxi. 361), but none of them are identified with the seals above 
mentioned. The secree seal was doubtless the same kind of seal described 



202 WILL OF THE BLACK PRINCE. 

auxi commandez notre notair dessous escript de mettre iiotre 
dite darriere volunte et testament en fourme publique, et de 
soy souz escviere et le signer et mercher de son signe acns- 
tumez, en tesmoignance de toutez et checunes les choses 
dessusdictes. 

Et ego, Johannes de Ormeshevede, clericns Kadiolensis 
diocesis publicus autoritate apostolica No|arius, premissis 
omnibus et singulis dum sic ut premittitur sub anno Dom- 
ini Millesimo, ccc. septuagesimo sexto, Indictione quarta- 
decima, pontificatus sanctissimi in Christo patris et domini 
nosti'i domini Gregorii, divina providentia pape, undecinii, 
anno sexto, mense, die et loco predictis, pi'edictum metuen- 
dissimum dominnm meum principem agerentur et fierent, 
presentibns reverendo in Christo patre domino Johanne 
Herefordensi Episcopo, dominis Lodewico de Clifford, Nicho- 
lao Bonde, et Nicholao de Scharnesfelde, militibus, et domino 
Willelmo de Walsham clerico, ac aliis pluribus militibus, 
clericis et scutiferis, unacum ipsis presens fui eaque sic fieri 
vidi et audivi, et de mandato dicti domini mei principis scripsi, 
et in banc publicam formani redegi, signoque meis et nomine 
consuetis signavi rogatus in fidem et testimonium omnium 
premissorum, constat michi notario predicto de interlinear' ha- 
rum dictionum — tout eat, per me fact, superius approbando. 

Probatio dicti Testamenti coram Simone Cantuar' Ar- 
chiepiscopo, iv. Idus Junii, M.ccc.lxxvj. in camera infra 
scepta domus fratrum predicatorum conventus London'. 
Nostre Translationis anno secundo. 



A marginal note records that John, Bishop of Durham, 
and Alan Stokes, executors of the will, had rendered their 
account of the goods, and have a full acquittance as also 

in other instances as the Privy Signet. The will of Edward III. was sealed 
" sigillo privato et signeto nostris," with the Great Seal in confirmation. 
Richard II. on his deposition took from his finger a ring of gold of his own 
Privy Signet, and put it on the Dnke of Lancaster's finger. The will of 
Henry V. was sealed with the Great and Privy Seals and the Privy Signet. 



7omb of the Black Prince. 



NOTES ON THE WILL. 203 

another acquittance from the Prior and Chapter of Christ 
Church, Canterbury, for the legacies bequeathed to that 
church, as appears in the Register of WilHam (Courtenay) 
Archbishop of Canterbury, under the year 1386. 



NOTES ON THE WILL OF EDWARD PRINCE OF 
WALES. 

In perusing the foregoing document, so characteristic of 
the habitual feelings and usages of the times, and of deep 
intei'est in connection with the history of the Prince, we 
cannot fiiil to remark with surprise the deviation from his 
last wishes in regard to the position of his tomb. The 
instructions here minutely detailed were probably written, 
from his own dictation, the day previous to his decease ; ^ 
and it were only reasonable to conclude that injunctions 
so solemnly delivered would have been fulfilled with scru- 
pulous precision by the executors even in the most minute 
particulars. We are unal)le to suggest any probable ex- 
planation of the deviations which appear to have taken 
place ; neither the chronicles of the period nor the rec- 
ords of the Church of Canterbury throw light upon the 
subject. 

According to the instructions given by the Prince, the 
corpse on reaching the church was for a time to be depos- 
ited on a hearse, or temporary stage of framework, to be 
constructed between the high altar and the choir, — namely, 
in that part of the fabric designated by Professor Willis as 
tlie presbytery, parallel with the eastern transepts. There 
it was to remain, surrounded doubtless by the torches and 

1 The day given in the printed text of Walsingham, Hist. Angl., p. 190, 
as that of the Prince's death, namely, Jnly 8, is obviously incorrect. It 
is singular that Mr. Nicliols should have followed this inadvertent error. 
(Royal Wills, p. 77.) Trinity Sunday in the year 1376 fell on June 8 ; and 
that is the day stated in tlie inscription on the tomb to have been that on 
which the Prince died. 



204 KOTES OX THE WILL. 

all the customary finieral pageantiy of the hearse, uutil the 
vigils, masses, and divine services were completed. The 
remains of the Prince were then to be conveyed to the 
Chapel of our Lady Under Cioft, and theie interred ; it is 
further enjoined that the foot of the tomb should be ten 
feet from the altar. If therefore it may be assumed, as 
appears highly probable, that the position of that chapel 
and altar at the period in question was identical with that 
of the Lady Chapel, of which we now see the remains in the 
centre of the crypt, it would appear that the site selected 
by Edward as his last resting-place v»'as situated almost pre- 
cisely below the high- altar in the choir above. It is obvi- 
ous that the screen-work and decorations of the chapel, 
now existing in a very dilapidated condition, ai'e of a period 
subsequent to that of the Prince's death ; and some have 
attributed the work to Archbishop Morton, towards the 
close of the fifteenth century. This, it will be remembei-ed, 
is the Chapel of Our Lady, the surpi'ising wealth of which 
is described by Erasmus, who by fiivor of an introduction 
from Archbishop Warham was admitted within the iron 
screens by which the ti'easure was strongly guarded.-^ 

Here, then, in the obscurity of the crypt, and not far 
distant from the chantries which the Prince at the time of 
his marriage had founded in the Under Croft of the south 
transept, was the spot where Edward enjoined his executors 
to construct his tomb. It were vain to conjecture, in de- 
fault of any evidence on the subject, to what cause the de- 
viation from his dying wishes was owing ; what difficulties 
may have been found in the endeavor to carry out the in- 
terment in the crypt, or what arguments may have been 
used by the prior and convent to induce the executors to 
place the tomb in the more conspicuous and sightly position 

1 Pilgrimage to St. Thomas of Canterbury, translated by John G. 
Nichols, p. 56. An interior view of this chapel is given by Dart, pi. ix., 
showing also the large slab in the pavement once encrusted with an effigy 
of brass, sometimes supposed to cover the burial-place of Archbishop 
Morton. 



NOTES OX THE WILL. 205 

above, near the shrine of St. Thomas, in the Chapel of 
the Trinit}", where it is actually to be seen.^ 

The instructions given by the Prince for the solemn 
pageant present a striking and characteristic picture of his 
obsequies, as the procession passed through the West Gate 
and along the High Street towards tlie cathedral. He en- 
joined that two chargers (dextrarii), with trappings of his 
iirms and badges, and two men accoutred in his panoply 
and wearing his helms should precede the corpse. One 
cheval de dale is often mentioned in the splendid funer- 
als of former times. In this instance thei'e were two ; one 
of them bearing the equipment of war, with the quarterly 
bearings of France and England, as seen upon the effigy of 
Edward, and upon the embroidered surcoat still suspended 
over it. The array of the second was directed to be inir la 
paix, de noz hages des 2^h''nies d'ostruce ; namely, that wliich 
the Prince had used in the lists and in the chivalrous 
exercises of arms distinguished from actual warfare, and 
termed kastiludia pacifica, or"justes of peas." "■^ Four sa- 
ble banners of the same suit, with the ostrich plumes, 
accompanied this noble pageant, and behind the war-horse 
followed a man armed, bearing a pennon, likewise charged 
with osti'ich plumes. This was the smaller flag, or streamer, 
attached to the warrior's lance ; and it may here, probably, 
be regarded as representing that actually carried in the 
field by the Prince.^ 

1 The supposition that the tomb of the Prince might have been origi- 
nally i)lace(l in tlie crypt, and removed subsequently into the Chapel of the 
Trinity, may appear very improbable. Yet it may be observed tliat the 
iron railings around the monuments of Edward and of Henry IV. are ap- 
parently of the same age, and wrought by the same workman, as shown 
by certain ornamental details. This might seem to sanction a conjecture 
that the two tombs had been placed there sinniltaneously, that of the 
Prince having possibly been moved thither from the Under Croft when the 
memorial of Henry was erected. 

2 See the curious documents and memoir relating to the peaceable Justs 
or Tiltings of the Middle Ages, by Mr. Douce, Archreologia, xvii. 290. 

3 A remarkable illustration of these instructions in Edward's will is 
supplied by an ilhimination in the " Metrical History of the Deposition of 



206 NOTES ON THE WILL. 

There can be little doubt that on the beam above the 
Prince's tomb at Cantei'bury there were originally placed 
two distinct atchevements, composed of the actual accou- 
trements, p»r la guerre and j^ur la paix, wliich had figured 
in these remarkable funeral impersonations. It was the cus- 
tom, it may be observed, when the courser and armor 
of the deceased formed part of a funeral procession, that 
the former was regarded as a mortuary due to the church 
in which the obsequies were performed, but the armor was 
usually hung up near the tomb. There may still be noticed 
two iron standards on the beam above mentioned, now bear- 
ing the few remaining reliques of these atchevements. 
One of these standards probably supported the embroidered 
armorial surcoat, or "coat of worship," by which Edward 
had been distinguished in the l)attle-field, charged with the 
bearings of France and England, his helm, his shield of war, 
likewise displaying the same heraldic ensigns, and the other 
appliances of actual warfare. The second trophy was doubt- 
less composed of his accoutrements for the joust, characterized 
not by the proper charges of heraldry, but by his favorite 
badge of the ostrich feather, the origin of which still perplexes 
the antiquary. Conformably, moreover, to such arrangement 
of the twofold atchevements over the tomb, the escutcheons 
affixed to its sides are alternately of war and peace ; namely, 
charged with the quarterly bearing, and with the feathers 
on a sable field. 

In regard to these richly enamelled escutcheons the 
Prince's instructions were given with much precision. They 
were to be twelve in number, eacii a foot wide, formed of 
latten or hard brass ; six being de nos armez entiers, and the 
remainder of ostrich feathers ; et qe sur chacnn escuc/ion, 
soit escript, c'est assavier sur cellez de nos armez et sur les aidres 
des plumes d'ostruce, — Houmo^it. Here, again, the tomb pre- 

Richard II.," where that king appears witli a black surcoat powdered with 
ostrich plumes, his horse in trappings of the same, and a pennon of the 
like badge carried behind him. Richard is represented in the act of confer- 
ring knighthood on Henry of Monmouth. (Archsologia, xx. 32, pi. ii. ) 



NOTES ON THE WILL. 



207 



sents a perplexing discrepancy from the letter of the will, 
which Sir Harris Nicolas, Mr. Planche, and other writers have 
noticed. The escntcheons of arms are actually surmounted by 
labels inscribed houmout ; whilst those with ostrich feathers 
have the motto ich diene, not mentioned in the Prince's 




KNAMELLED ESCUTCHEON AFFIXED TO THE ALTAR TOMB IN CANTERBURY 
CATHEDRAL UPON WHICH THE EFFIGY OF EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE 
IS PLACED. 



injunctions. It must, however, be considered that the text 
of his will has not been obtained from the original in- 
strument (no longer, probably, in existence), but from a 
transcript in Archbishop Sudbury's Register ; and the suppo- 
sition seems probable that the copier may have inadver- 
tently omitted the words ich diene after noz armez, and the 



208 



NOTES ON THE WILL. 



sentence as it now stands appears incomplete. Still, even 
if this conjecture be admitted, the mottoes over the al- 
ternate escutcheons are transposed, as compared with the 
Prince's directions 

The origin and import of these mottoes have been largely 
discussed ; it may suffice to refer to the arguments ad- 




ENAMELLED ESCUTCHEON AFFIXED TO THE ALTAR TOMB IN CANTERBURY 
CATHEDRAL UPON WHICH THE EFFIGY OF EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE 
IS PLACED. 

vanced by the late Sir Harris Nicolas and by Mr, Planche 
(Archfeologia, xxxi. 357, 372, and xxxii. 69).^ The most 
remarkable fact connected with this subject is that the 
Prince actually used these mottoes as a sign-manual ; 

1 See also Mr. Planclie's History of British Costume, p. 178. 



NOTES ON THE WILL. 209 

thus : De ^wr Itomout Ich dene, the mottues being written 
one over the otlier, and enclosed within a Une traced around 
them. This interesting signature was tirst noticed in a com- 
munication to the Spalding Society, some years since, and 
a fac-simile engraved in Mr. Nichols's " Bibliotheca Topogra- 
phica." Another document thus signed, and preserved in 
the Tower, w'as commiuiicated by ^Jr. Hardy to the late Sir 
Harris Nicolas. It has been published in his " Memoir on 
the Badges and Mottoes of the Prince of Wales," before 
cited. ^ I am indebted to the obliging courtesy of the Vis- 
count Mahon, President of the Society of Antiquaries, whose 
kindness enables me to place before the reader of these notes 



^Ov«^w<vu:t:r~ 



tW^-i-^'^"^' 



a faithful representation of the Prince's signature, as also the 
accompanying illustrations of the subject under considera- 
tion, being woodcuts prepared for the " ]\Iemoirs," by Sir 
Harris Nicolas, in the " x\rchreologia." 

A brief notice of the interesting reliques which still I'emain 
over the tomb may here be acceptable.^ The chief of these 
is the gamboised jupon of one pile crimson velvet, with 
short sleeves somewhat like the tabard of the herald, but 

1 Arc]ia3oIof,'ia, xxxi. 358, 381. The document in tlie Tower which 
bears this sii;nature is dated April 25, 1370, being a warrant granted to 
John de Esiiuet for fifty marks per annum out of the excliequer of Ches- 
ter. The document given in " Bibliotheca Topographica," iii. 90, seems not 
to have been noticerl by Sir Harris Nicolas. It is described as a grant of 
twenty marks per annum, to John de Esquet, dated 34 Edw. TIT. (1360-1361). 
2 I regret much that I was unable to examine these highly interesting 
reliques. The foUowingparticulars are from the notes by Mr. Kempe in the 
letterpress of Stothard's Effigies, where adnnraVile representations of these 
objects are given ; a short account by Mr. J. Gough Nichols, in the " Gen- 
tleman's Magazine," xxii. 384, and Mr. Hartshorne's Memoir on Mediaeval 
Embroidery, ArchjEological Journal, iii. 326, 327. 

14 



210 NOTES ON THE WILL. 

laced up the back ; the foundation of the garment being of 
buckram, stuffed with cotton, and quilted in longitudinal 
ribs. The sleeves, as well as both front and back, of this 
coat display the quarterly bearing, the fleurs-de-lys (seviees) 
and lions being embroidered in gold. Recently it has been 
lined with leather for its better preservation. The shield 
is of wood, covered with moidded leather, or cidr houilli, 
wrought with singular skill, so that the Jjeur-de-lf/s and lions 
of the quarterly bearing which it displays preserve the sharp- 
ness of finish and bold relief in remarkable perfection. The 
iron conical-topped helm is similar in form to that placed 
under the head of the effigy ; its original lining of leather 
may be seen, a proof of its having been actually intended 
for use ; it has, besides the narrow ocidaria, or transverse 
apertures for sight, a number of small holes pierced on the 
right side in front, probably to give air ; they are arranged 
in form of a crown. Upon the red chapeau, or cap of estate, 
lined with velvet, with the ermined fore-part turned up, was 
placed the gilded lion which formed the crest. This is hol- 
low, and constructed of some light substance, stated to be 
pasteboard, coated with a plastic composition, on which the 
shaggy locks of the lion's skin were formed by means of a 
mould. The chapeau and crest were, it is said, detached 
from the helm some years since, on the occasion of a visit 
by the Duchess of Kent to Canterbury. The gauntlets 
ai-e of brass, differing only from those of the effigy in hav- 
ing been ornamented with small lions riveted upon the 
knuckles ; the leather which appears on the inside is worked 
up the sides of the fingers with silk.^ The fact that these 
gauntlets are of brass may desei've notice, as suggesting the 
probability that the entire suit which served as a model for 

1 It is to be regretted that the curious lioncels on the Prince's gaunt- 
lets should have been detached by "collectors." One was shown nie at 
Canterbury, now in private hands, which I much desire were deposited 
in the Library, in Dr. Bargrave's cabinet of coins and antiquities, or in 
some other place of safe custody. Anotlier was in the possession of a 
Kentish collector, whose stores were dispersed by public auction a few 
years Bince. 



NOTES ON THE WILL. 211 

the effigy of the Prince was of that metal. The scabbard 
of red leather with gilt studs, and a fragment of the belt of 
thick cloth, with a single buckle, alone remain ; it has been 
stated, on what authority I have not been able to ascertain, 
that the sword was carried away by Cromwell.^ 

A representation has happily been preserved of another re- 
lique, originally part of the funeral atchevements of the Black 
Prince, and which may have formed a portion of the accou- 
trements pur la paix. Edmund Bolton, in his " Elements 
of Armories," printed in 1610, remarks that the ancient 
fashion of shields was triangular, — namely, that of the shield 
still to be seen over the Prince's tomb, — but that it was not 
the onh' form ; and he gives two examples, one being the 
" honorary " shield belonging to the most renowned Edward 
Prince of Wales, whose tomb is in the Cathedral Church in 
Canterbury. "There (beside his quilted coat-armour with 
halfe-sleeves, taberd-fashion, and his triangular shield, both 
of them painted with the royall armories of our kings, and 
difFei'enced with silver labels) hangs this kinde of Pavis or 

1 On this subject it may be worth while to insert a letter received from 
the Rev. A. D. Wray, Canon of Manchester, in the hope of eliciting further 
information on the fate of the sword. — A. P. S. 

" The sword, or supposed sword of the Black Prince, which Oliver Crom- 
well is said to have carried away, I have seen and many times have had in 
my hands. There lived in Manchester, when I first came here (1809) a Mr. 
Thomas Barritt, a saddler by trade ; he was a great antiquarian, and had 
collected together helmets, coats of mail, horns, etc., and many coins. But 
what he valued most of all was a sword : the blade about two feet long, and 
on the blade was let in, in letters of gold, * Edwardus Wallie Princeps. ' 
I see, from a drawing which I possess of himself and his curiosities, he was 
in possession of this sword a.D. 1794. He told me he purchased many of the 
ancient relics of a pedler, who travelled through the country selling earth- 
enware, and I think he said he got this sword from this pedler. When 
Barritt died, in October, 1820, aged seventy-six, his curiosities were sold by 
his widow at a raffle; Init I believe this sword was not among the articles 
so disposed of. It had probably been disposed of beforehand, but to whom 
I never knew; yet I think it not unlikely that it is still in the neighbor- 
hood. Mrs. Barritt is long since dead, and her only child a daughter, 
leaving no representative. The sword was a little curved, scimitar-like, 
rather thick, broad blade, and had every appearance of being the Black 
Prince's sword. Mr. Barritt had made a splendid scabbard to hold it." 



212 NOTES ON THE WILL. 

Targat/ curiously (for those times) embost and painted, the 
scucheon in the bosse beeing worne out, and the Armes 
(which it seems were the same with his coate-armour, and 
not any pecuhar devise) defaced, and is altogether of the 
same kinde with that, upon which (Froissard reports) the 
dead body of the Lord Robert of Duras, and nephew to the 
Cardinall of Pierregourt was laid, and sent unto that Cardi- 
nall from the battell of Poictiers, where the Black Prince 
obtained a victorie, the renowne whereof is immortall." 

The form of this Pavis is ovoid, that is, an oval narrowing 
towards the bottom : in the middle is a circle, apparently 
designated by Bolton as " the bosse," the diameter of which 
is considerably more than half the width of the shield at 
that part ; this circle encloses an escutcheon of the arms of 
France and England quarterly, with a label of three points. 
All the rest of the shield around this circle is diapered with 
a trailing or foliated ornament.^ Unfortunately, Bolton has 
not recoixled the dimensions of this shield ; but it may prob- 
ably be concluded from his comparing it with the targe, 
mentioned by Froissart, upon which the corpse of Duras was 
conveyed, that it was of larger proportions than the ordinary 
triangular war-shield. 

The Holy Trinity, it has been remarked, was regarded 
with especial veneration by the Black Prince. In the Or- 
dinance of the chantries founded at Canterbury, printed 
in this volume, page 188, the Prince states his purpose 
to be ad honorem Sancte Trmitatis quam 2)eculiari devoci- 
one semper coliinus. On the wooden tester beneath which 
his effigy is placed, a very curious painting in distemper 
may still be discerned, representing the Holy Trinity ; 

1 A woodcut is introduced here in the description. (Elements of 
Armories, p, 67.) It has been copied in Brayley's Grapliic Illustrator, 
p. 128. It is remarkable that Bolton should assert that the arms both on 
the quilted coat and on the triangular shield were differenced by a label of 
silver: none is now to be seen ; the silver may possibly have become effaced. 
The label appears on the shield figured by Bolton, as also on the effigy. 

2 A jousting-shield in the Goodrich Court Armory is decorated with 
gilt foliage in very similar style. See Skelton's Illustrations, vol. i. pi. xii. 



NOTES ON THE WILL. 



213 



according to the usual conventional symbolism, the Su- 
preme Being is here portrayed seated on the rainbow and 
holding a crucifix, the foot of which is fixed on a terra- 
queous globe. The four angles contain the Evangelistic 




REPRESENTATION OF EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE KNEELING IN VENERA- 
TION OF THE HOLY TRINITY. 

From a metal hadge preserved in the British ]\r\iseum. 
(Of the same dimensions as the original.) 

symbols. An interesting illustration of the Prince's peculiar 
veneration for the Holy Trinity is supplied by the curious 
metal badge, preserved in the British Museum, and of which 
Sir Harris Nicolas has given a representation in his " Ob- 



214 NOTES ON THE WILL. 

servations on the Institution of the Order of the Gar- 
ter."^ On this relique the Prince appears kneeling before 
a figure of the Ahnighty holding a crucifix, almost iden- 
tical in design with the painting above mentioned. His 
gauntlets lie on the ground before him ; he is bareheaded, 
the crested helm being held by an angel standing behind ; 
aud above is seen another angel issuing from the clouds, 
and holding his shield, charged with the arms of France and 
England, differenced by a label. The whole is surrounded 
by a Garter, inscribed hony soi/t he mal y ])ense. It is 
remai'kable that on this plate, as also in the painting on the 
tester of the tomb, the dove, usually introduced to symbol- 
ize the third person of the Holy Trinity, does not appear. 

Thei'e are other matters comprised in this remarkable 
will to which time does not allow nie to advert. It ap- 
peared very desirable to give, with greater accuracy than 
had hitherto been done, the text of a document so essential 
to the illustration of the History of Edward, as connected 
with the Cathedral Church of Canterbury.^ 

1 Archffiologia, xxxi. 141. This object is a casting in pewter or mixed 
white metal, from a mould probably intended for making badges, which 
may have been worn by the Prince's attendants affixed to the dress. 

2 It is with pleasure that I here acknowledge the courtesy of the Rev. 
J. Thomas, Librarian to the Archbishop, in giving facilities for the collation 
of the transcript of the Prince's will jjreserved amongst the Records at 
Lambeth Palace. 



HIS CONNECTION WITH QUEEN'S COLLEGE, ETC. 215 



L WAS THE BLACK PRINCE AT QUEEN'S COLLEGE, 
OXFORD 1 

The tradition of tlie Black Prince's connection with 
Queen's ColJege and with Wychffe, us stated in the text, 
must, I tind, be taken with considerable reservation. 

With regard to the Black Prince, the Bursars' rolls, which 
are extant as far back as 1347, exhibit, 1 am informed, no 
traces of his stay ; and the early poverty of the college is 
thought to be a strong presumption against it. 

With regard to Wycliffe, the Bursars' rolls exhibit various 
expenses incurred for a chamber let to Wycliffe (" Magis- 
ter Joh. WycUf") in 1363-1375.1 This probably is the 
foundation of the story that he was there as a student ; and 
if so, the supposition that he may have been there in 1346, 
at the same time with the Black Prince, falls to the ground. 



IL DID THE BLACK PRINCE COME TO CANTERBURY 
AFTER THE BATTLE OF POITIERS'? 

It appears from a letter in Rymer's " Foedera," that the 
Prince was expected to land at Plymouth ; it is stated by 
Knyghton that he actually did so. The question, there- 
fore, arises whether Froissart's detailed account of his arrival 
at Sandwich and of his subsequent journey to Canterbury, 
as given in the Note, can be reconciled with those intima- 
tions; or if not, which authority must give way 1 

' See notes to the last edition of Fox's Acts and Martyrs, p. 940. 



THE SHRINE 

OF 

ST. THOMAS OF CANTERBURY. 



The authorities for the subject of the following Essay are, besides 
the chroniclers and historians of the time, and the ordinary text-books 
of Canterbury antiquities, — Somner, Batteley, Hr ted, and Willis : 
(1) Erasmus's Pilgrimage to Canterbury and Walsingham, as edited 
with great care and copious illustrations by Mr. Nichols; (2) 
Chaucer's Canterbui-y Tales, as edited by Tyrwhitt, and the " Sup- 
plementary Tale," as edited by Mr. Wright, in the twenty-sixth volume 
of the Percy Society. To these I have added, in an Appendix, ex- 
tracts from sources less generally accessible : ( 1 ) A manuscript history 
of Canterbury Cathedral, in Norman French, entitled " Polistoire," 
now in the British Museum, of the time of Edward II. ; (2) The 
Narrative of the Bohemian Embassy, in the reign of Edward IV. ; 
(3) The manuscript Defence of Henry VIII., by William Thomas, 
of the time of Edward VI., in the British Museum ; (4) Some few 
notices of the Shrine in the Archives of Canterbury Cathedral, — which 
last are subjoined to this Essay, as collected and annotated by Mr. 
Albert Way, who has also added notes on the " Pilgrim's Road" and 
on the " Pilgrimage of John of France." I have also appended in this 
edition a note, by Mr. George Austin, of Canterbury, on the crescent 
above the shrine, and on the representation of the story of Becket's 
miracles in the stained glass of the cathedral. 



The Warrior's Chapel, Tombs. 



THE SHRINE OF BECKET. 



AMONGST the many treasures of art and of devo- 
tion which once adorned or which still adorn the 
inetropolitical cathedral, the one point to which for 
more than three centuries the attention of every 
stranger who entered its gates was directed, was the 
shrine of St. Thomas of Canterbury. And although 
that shrine, with the special feelings of reverence of 
which it was once the centra" has long passed away, 
yet there is still sulhcient interest around its ancient 
site, there is still sufficient instruction in its event- 
ful history, to require a full narrative of its rise, its 
progress, and its fall, in any historical records of the 
great cathedral of which in the eyes of England it 
successively formed the support, the glory, and the 
disgrace. Such a narrative, worthily told, would be 
far more than a mere investigation of local antiquities. 
It would be a page in one of the most curious chapters 
of the history of the human mind ; it would give us a 
clear insight into the interior working of the ancient 
monastic and ecclesiastical system, in one of the as- 
pects in which it least resembles anything which we 
now see around us, either for good or for evil ; it would 
enable us to be present at some of the most gorgeous 
spectacles and to meet some of the most remarkable 
characters of mediaeval times ; it would help us to 



220 INSIGNIFICANCE OF THE CATHEDRAL 

appreciate more comprehensively some of the main 
causes and effects of the Reformation. 

In order to understand this singular story, we must 
first go back to the state of Canterbury and its cathe- 
dral in the times preceding not only the shrine itself, 
l)ut the event of which it was the memorial. Canter- 
l)ury, from the time of Augustine, had been the chief 
city of the English Church. But it had not acquired 
an European celebrity ; and the comparative splendor 
which it had enjoyed during the reign of Ethelbert, as 
capital of a large part of Britain, had entirely passed 
away before the greater claims of Winchester and of 
London. And even in the city of Canterbury the ca- 
thedral was not the chief ecclesiastical edifice. There 
was, we must remember, close outside the walls, the 
great Abbey and Church of St. Augustine ; and we can 
hardly doubt that here, as in many foreign cities, the 
church of the patron saint was regarded as a more sa- 
cred and important edifice than the church attached to 
the episcopal see. St. Zeno at Verona, and St. Apollina- 
ris at Ravenna outshine the cathedrals of both those 
ancient cities. The Basilica of St. Mark at Venice, 
though only the private chapel of the Ducal Palace, has, 
ever since its claim to possess the relics of the Evange- 
list of Alexandria, thrown into the most distant shade 
the seat of the patriarchate, in the obscure Church of 
St. Peter in the little island beyond the Arsenal. The 
Basilica of St. John Lateran, though literally the metro- 
politan cathedral of the metropolitan city of Christen- 
dom, though containing the see and chair of the Roman 
pontiffs, though the mother and head of all the churches, 
with the princes of Europe for the members of its 
chapter, has been long superseded in grandeur and in 
sanctity by the august dome which in a remote corner 



BEFORE THE MURDER OF BECKET. 221 

of the city rises over the grave of the Apostle Saint 
Peter. In two celebrated instances the cathedral has, 
as in the case of Canterbury, from accidental causes 
overtaken the church of the original saint. Milan 
Cathedral has, from Galeazzo Visconti's efforts to ex- 
piate his enormous crimes and from the popular devo- 
tion to Saint Carlo Borromeo, more than succeeded in 
eclipsing the ancient Church of St. Ambrose. Eheims 
— the Canterbury of France — furnishes a still more 
exact parallel. The Abbey Church of St. Remy and 
the Cathedral, at the two extremities of the city, are 
the precise counterparts of Christ Church and of St. 
Augustine's Abbey in the first Christian city of Eng- 
land. The present magnificence of Eheims Cathedral, 
as its architecture at once reveals, dat'^s from a later 
period than the simple but impressive edifice which 
encloses the shrine of the patron saint, and shows 
that there was a time when the distinction conferred 
on the cathedral by the coronation of the French kings 
had not yet rivalled the glory of Saint Remigius, the 
Apostle of the Franks. These instances, to which 
many more might be added, exemplify the feeling 
which in the early days of Canterbury placed the 
Monastery of St. Augustine above the Monastery of 
Christ Church. The former was an abbey, headed by 
a powerful dignitary who in any gathering of the Bene- 
dictine Order ranked next after the Abbot of Monte 
Casino. The latter was but a priory, under the su- 
perintendence of the Archbishop, whose occupations 
usually made him a non-resident, and therefore not 
necessarily bound up with the interests of the institu- 
tion of which he was but the nominal head. 

Besides this natural pre-eminence, so to speak, of the 
original church of Augustine over that in which his see 



222 RELATIVE POSITION OF CHRIST CHURCH 

was established by Ethelbert, there was another pecu- 
liarity which seemed at one time likely to perpetuate 
its superiority. We have seen how the position of the 
abbey as the burial-place of Augustine was determined 
by the usages which he brought with him from Italy. ^ 
It was outside the walls; and within its extra-mural 
precincts alone the bodies of the illustrious dead could 
be deposited. To our notions this would seem, per- 
haps, of trifling importance in considering the probable 
fortunes either of an edifice or of an institution. But 
it was not so then ; and we shall but imperfectly under- 
stand the history not only of the particular subject on 
which we are now engaged, but of the whole period of 
the Middle Ages, unless we bear in mind the vast im- 
portance which from the fifth century onwards till the 
fifteenth was ascribed to the possession of relics. 

No doubt this feeling had a just and natural origin, 
so far as it was founded on the desire to retain the 
memorials of those honored in former times. And it is 
almost as unreasonable to deprive our great cathedrals 
of this legitimate source of interest, where no sanitary 
objections exist, as it was formerly to insist upon 
promiscuous interment within every church to the 
manifest injury of the living. But however excellent 
this sentiment may be in itself, it was in the Middle 
Ages exaggerated beyond all due bounds by the pecu- 
liar reverence which at that time attached to the cor- 
poreal elements and particles (so to speak) of religious 
objects. To this, too, we must add, as has been well 
remarked by a sagacious observer of ancient and mod- 
ern usages, the concentration of all those feelings and 
tastes which now expend themselves on collections 
of pictures, of statues, of books, of manuscripts, of 
1 See " Landing of Augustine," p. 48. 



AND ST. AUGUSTINE'S. 223 

curiosities of all kinds, but which then found their vent 
in this one department alone. It became a mania, such 
as never was witnessed before or since. The traces 
which still exist in some Eoman Catholic countries are 
mere shadows of what is passed. In the times preced- 
ing or immediately following the Christian era, it hardly 
existed at all. But at the time of the foundation of 
the two monasteries of Canterbury, and nearly through 
the whole period which we have now to consider, its 
influence was amongst the most powerful motives by 
which the mind of Europe was agitated. Hence the 
strange practice of dismembering the bodies of saints, 
— a bone here, a heart there, a head here, — which 
painfully neutralizes the religious and historical effect 
of even the most authentic and the most sacred graves 
in Christendom. Hence the still stranger practice of 
the invention and sale of relics, which throws such 
doubt on the genuineness of all. Hence the monstrous 
incongruity and contradiction of reproducing the same 
relics in different shrines. Hence the rivalry, the 
thefts, the commerce, of these articles of sacred mer- 
chandise, especially between institutions whose jealousy 
was increased by neighborhood, as was the case with 
the two monasteries of Canterbury. 

According to the rule just noticed, no king of Kent, 
no archbishop of Canterbury, however illustrious in 
life or holy in death, could be interred within the pre- 
cincts of the cathedral, enclosed as it was by the city 
walls. Not only Augustine and Ethelbert, but Lau- 
rence, the honored successor of Augustine, who had 
reconverted the apostate Eadbald, and Theodore of 
Tarsus, fellow-townsman of the Apostle of the Gen- 
tiles, and first teacher of Greek learning in England, 
were laid beneath the shadow of St. Augustine's Ab- 



224 CHANGE EFFECTED BY 

bey. As far as human prescience could extend, a long 
succession of sainted men was thus secured to the ri- 
val monastery ; and the inmates of the cathedral were 
doomed to lament the hard fate that made over to their 
neighbors treasures which seemed peculiarly their own. 
Thus passed away the first eight primates. At last an 
archbishop arose in whom the spirit of attachment to 
the monastery of which he was the authorized head 
prevailed over the deference due to the usages and ex- 
ample of the founder of his see. Cuthbert, the ninth 
archbishop, determined by a bold stroke to break 
through the precedent by leaving his bones to his own 
cathedral. Secretly during his lifetime he prepared a 
document, to which he procured the sanction of the 
King of Kent and of the Pope, authorizing this impor- 
tant deviation. And when at last he felt his end ap- 
proaching, he gathered the monks of Christ Church 
round him, delivered the warrant into their hands, and 
adjured them not to toll the cathedral bell till the third 
day after his death and burial. The order was gladly 
obeyed. The body was safely interred within the cathe- 
dral precincts ; and not till the third day was the knell 
sounded which summoned the monks of St. Augus- 
tine's Abbey, with their abbot Aldhelm at their head, 
to claim their accustomed prey. They were met at 
the gates of the priory with the startling intelligence 
that the Archbishop was duly buried, and their indig- 
nant remonstrances were stopped by the fatal compact. 
There was one more attempt made, under Jambert, the 
next abbot, to carry off the body of the next arch- 
bishop at the head of an armed mob. But the battle 
was won. Jambert, indeed, who was afterwards him- 
self raised from the abbacy of St. Augustine's to the 
archiepiscopal see, could not but remember the claims 



ARCHBISHOP CUTHBERT. 225 

which he had himself so strongly defended, and was 
interred within the walls of St. Augustine's. But 
he was the only exception ; and after this, till the 
epoch of the Eeformation, not more than six primates 
were buried outside the precincts of the cathedral.^ 

It has been thought worth while to relate at length 
this curious story, partly as an illustration of the relic 
worship of the time, partly also as a necessary step in 
the history of the cathedral, and of that especial por- 
tion of it now before us. But for the intervention of 
Cuthbert the greatest source of power which the cathe- 
dral was ever to claim would never have fallen to its 
share. The change, indeed, immediately began to tell. 
Hitherto the monks of the cathedral had been com- 
pelled to content themselves with such fragments as 
they could beg or steal from other churches, but now 
the vacant spaces were filled with a goodly array not 
only of illustrious prelates, but even of canonized 
saints. Not only did the cathedral cover the graves 
of ancient Saxon primates, and of Lanfranc, ihe founder 
of the Anglo-Norman hierarchy, but also those of the 
confessor Saint Dunstan, of the martyr Saint Alphege, 
of the great theologian Saint Anselm. To those 
three tombs — now almost entirely vanished — the 
monks of Christ Church would doubtless have pointed 
in the beginning of the reign of Henry II. as the crown- 
ing ornaments of their cathedral ; the monks of St. Au- 
gustine, though they might still quote with pride the 
saying of Dunstan, that every footstep he took within 
their precincts was planted on the grave of a saint,'"' 
would have confessed with a sigh that the artifice of 
Cuthbert had to a certain extent succeeded ; and when 
Lanfranc ordered that the bells of the abbey were not 

J Thorn, 1773. 2 ^^ta Sanctorum, May 4, p. 78. 

15 



226 SPREAD OF THE WORSHIP OF ST. THOMAS 

to be rung till the first note had been given by those of 
the cathedral,^ he was perhaps only confirming, by his 
archiepiscopal authority, an equality already acknowl- 
edged by popular usage. 

Still, the superiority of the one over the other was 
not absolutely decisive ; and neither edifice could be 
said to possess a shrine of European, hardly even of 
British celebrity. It is probable that Saint Cuthbert at 
Durham, Saint Wilfrid at Eipon, Saint Edmund in East 
Anglia, equalled, in the eyes of most Englishmen, the 
claims of any saints buried in the metropolitical city. 
But the great event of which Canterbury was the scene, 
on the 29th of December, 1170, at once riveted upon it 
the thoughts not only of England, but of Christendom. 
A saint — so it w^as then almost universally believed — 
a saint of unparalleled sanctity had fallen in the church 
of which he was primate, a martyr for its rights ; and 
his blood, his remains, were in the possession of that 
church, as an inalienable treasure forever. Most men 
were persuaded that a new burst of miraculous pow- 
ers,^ such as had been suspended for many generations, 
had broken out at the tomb ; and the contemporary 
monk Benedict fills a volume with extraordinary cures, 
wrought within a very few years after the "Martyr- 
dom." Far and wide the fame of " Saint Thomas of Can- 
terbury " spread.^ Other English saints, however great 
their local celebrity, were for the most part not known 
beyond the limits of Britain. No churches in foreign 
parts retain the names even of Saint Cuthbert of Dur- 
ham, or Saint Edmund of Bury. But there is probably 

1 Thorn, c. vii. s. 10. 2 gee Robertson, pp. 291, 292. 

^ See Roger of Croyland. Matthew Paris says that dead birds 
were restored to life. For manuscript authorities on the miracles, see 
Butler's Lives of the Saints, Dec. 29. 



IN ITALY, FRANCE, SYRIA, ETC. 227 

no country in Europe which does not exhibit traces of 
Becket. In Eome the chapel of the English College 
niarivs the site of the ancient church dedicated to him, 
and the relics attesting his martyrdom are laid up in 
the Tasilica of Sta. Maria Maggiore beside the cradle 
of Bethleliem. In Verona the Church of San Thomaso 
Cantuariense contains a tooth, and did contain till re- 
cently part of his much-contested skull. A portion of 
an arm is still shown to inquiring travellers in a con- 
vent at Florence ; another portion in the Church of St. 
Waldetrude at Mons ; ^ at Lisbon, in the time of Fuller, 
both arms were exhibited in the English nunnery ; his 
chalice at Bourbourg, his hair shirt at Douay, his mitre 
at St. Omer.2 In France, the scene of his exile, his his- 
tory may be tracked again and again. On tlie heights 
of Fourviferes, overlooking tlie city of Lyons, is a chapel 
dedicated to Saint Thomas of Canterbury. Four years be- 
fore his death, it is said, he was walking on the terraced 
bank of the river underneath, and being asked to whom 
the chapel should be dedicated, he replied, " To .the next 
martyr," on which his companion remarked, " Perhaps, 
then, to you." The same story witii the same issue is 
also told at St. Lo in Normandy. In the same province, 
at Val Eicher, a tract of ground, still within the memory 
of men, was left unploughed, in recollection of a great 
English saint who had there performed his devotions. 
In Sens the vestments in which he officiated ^ and an 



1 Brasseur'.s Thes. Relijjr- Hamionia", p. 199 (Butler's Lives of the 
Saints, Dec. 29). 

- Haverden's True Church, part iii. c. 2, p. 314 (Ibid.). 

3 The length of these ve.stments confirms the account of his great 
stature. (See "Murder of Becket," p. 88.) On the Feast of Saii:t 
Thomas, till very recenth-, they were worn for that one day by the 
officiating priest. The tallest priest was always selected ; and even 
then it was necessary to pin them up. 



228 SPREAD OF THE WORSHIP OF ST. THOMAS 

ancient altar at which he said Mass, are exhibited in 
the cathedral ; and the old convent at St. C'olombe, 
where he resided, is shown outside the city. At Lille 
there is a house with an inscription commemorative of 
his having passed a night there. ^ In the magniticent 
windows of Chartres, of Sens, and of St. Ouen, the story 
of his life holds a conspicuous place. At Palermo his 
figure is still to be seen in the Church of Monreale, 
founded by William the Good in the year of his canon- 
ization. Even far away in Syria, " Saint Thomas " was 
not forgotten by the crusading army. His name was 
inscribed on the banner of Archbishop Baldwin, at 
Acre. William, chaplain of the Dean of St. Paul's, on 
his voyage thither, made a vow that if he entered the 
place in safety, he would build there a chapel to the 
" Martyr," with an adjoining cemetery to bury the de- 
parted. The city was taken, and the vow accomplished. 
William passed his life within the precincts of his church, 
engaged as prior in the pious work of interring the dead. 
King E;chard at the same time and place founded an 
order of St. Thomas under the jurisdiction of the Tem- 
plars. And from these circumstances one of the names 
by which the saint henceforward was most frequently 
known was "Thomas Acrensis," or "Saint Thomas of 
Aeon or Acre."^ 

To trace his churches and memorials through the 
British dominions woLdd be an endless labor. In Scot- 
land, within seven years from the murder, the noble 
Abbey of Aberbrothock ^ was raised to liis memory by 
William the Lion, who chose it for the place of his own 

1 Digby's Mores Cattolici, p. 361. 

2 Maitland's London, p. 88.5; Diceto, 6.54; Mill's Crusades, ii. 89. 
^ The Abbey of Aberbrothock is the ruin familiar to readers of 

Scott's novel of the "Antiquary " as "the Abbey of St. Ruth." 



IN LONDON. 229 

interment, partly, it would seem, from an early friend- 
ship contracted with the Archbishop at Henry's Court, 
partly from a lively sense of the Martyr's power in 
bringing about his defeat and capture at Alnwick.^ A 
mutilated figure of Saint Thomas has survived amidst the 
ruins of the monastery. In the rough borderland between 
the two kingdoms, no oath was considered so binding 
in the thirteenth century, as one which was sw^orn upon 
" the holy mysteries " and " the sword of Saint Thomas." 
This, in all probability, was the sword which Hugh de 
Moreville wore on the fatal day, and which, being pre- 
served in his native province, thus obtained the same 
kind of honor in the north as that of Eichard Le Bret 
in the south, and was long regarded as the chief glory 
of Carlisle Cathedral.^ In England there was hardly a 
county which did not possess some church or convent 
■ connected with Saint Thomas. The immense prepon- 
derance of the name of " Thomas " in England, as com- 
pared with its use in other countries, probably arose 
from the reverence due to the great English saint. 
Next to the name of " John," common to all Christen- 
dom, the most familiar to English ears is " Tom," or 
" Thomas." How few of those who bear or give it re- 
flect that it is a vestige of the national feeling of the 
twelfth century ! Another instance may be found in the 
frequency of the name of " Thomas," " the great Tom," 
applied to so many of our ancient bells. But at that 

1 See " Murder of Becket," p. 143. The authorities for William's 
motives in the foundation of tlie abbe_v are given in the " Kegistrura 
vetusde Aberbrothock," printed by the Bannatyne Cluh, Preface, p. 12. 

- See " Murder of Becket," p. 125, and the account of the oath of 
Robert Bruce at Carlisle, in Ilolinshed, ii. 523, and the brief " History 
of Carlisle Cathedral," p. 30, by its former excellent Dean, the present 
Archbishop of Canterbury. The aliove statement reconciles the diffi- 
culty about the two swords, stated in Pegge's Beauchief Abbey, p. 6. 



230 WORSHIP OF SAINT THOMAS IN LONDON. 

time the reminiscences of Saint Thomas were more 
substantial. Besides the swords already mentioned, 
probably of ]\Ioreville and of Le Bret, a third sword, 
perhaps of Tracy or Fitzurse, was preserved in the 
Temple ^ Church of London. At Derby, at Warwick, 
at St. Albans, at Glastonbury, were portions of his 
dress ; at Chester, his girdle ; at Alnwick, or at Corby ,^ 
his cup ; at Bury, his penknife and boots ; at Windsor 
and Peterborough, drops of his blood.^ The Priory of 
Woodspring on the Bristol Channel, the Abbey of 
Beauchief in Derbyshire, were direct expiations of the 
crime.* The very name of the latter was traced, by 
popular though probably erroneous belief, to its con- 
nection with the " Bellum caput," or "Beautiful head" 
of the slaughtered Archbishop.^ London was crowded 
with memorials of its illustrious citizen. The Chapel 
of St. Thomas of Acre, now merged in the Mercer's 
Hall, marked the place of his birth, and formed one of 
the chief stations in the procession of the Lord Mayor. "^ 
The chapel which guarded the ancient London Bridge 
was dedicated to Saint Thomas. The seal of the bridge 
" had of old the effigies of Thomas of Becket (a Lon- 
doner born) upon it, with this inscription in the name 
of the city, ' Me quoe te peperi, ne cessis, Thoma,'^ tueri.' 
The solitary vacant niche which is seen in the front of 
Lambeth Palace, facing the river, was once filled by a 

1 See Inventory of the Temple Church, Gentleman's Magazine, 
May, 18.58, p. .516. 

'■^ Audin's History of Henry VIII., i. 1-35. 

3 See Pejr^e's Beauchief Abbey, p. 3; Nichols's Erasmus, p. 229. 

* See " Murder of Becket," pp. 126, 129. 

^ See Peffge's Beauchief Abbey, pp. 6-20. He proves that the 
ground on wliich the abbey stands was called Beauchief, or the Beauti- 
ful Headland, prior to the building of the convent. 

6 Maitland's London, p. 885. 

^ Hovvel's Loudiuopolis, p. 395 (Notes and Queries, May 22, 1858). 



ALTAR OF THE SWORD'S POINT. 231 

statue of the great Primate, to which the watermen of 
the Thames dotied tlieir caps as they rowed by in their 
countless barges." 

But Canterbury was, of course, the centre of all. 
St. Augustine's still stood proudly aloof, and was sat- 
isfied with the glory of Ethelbert's baptism, which ap- 
pears on its ancient seals ; but the arms of the city and 
of the chapter represented " the Martyrdom ; " and 
the very name of " Christ Church " or of " the Holy 
Trinity," by which the cathedral was properly desig- 
nated, was in popular usage merged in that of the 
" Church of St. Thomas." i 

For the few years immediately succeeding his death, 
there was no regular shrine. The popular enthusiasm 
still clung to the two spots immediately connected 
with the murder. The transept in which he died with- 
in five years from that time acquired the name by 
which it has ever since been known, " The Martyr- 
dom." 2 This spot and its subsequent alterations have 
been already described. The flagstone on which his 
skull was fractured, and the solid corner of masonry 
in front of which he fell, are probably the only parts 
which remain unchanged. But against that corner 
may still be seen the marks of the space occupied 
by a wooden altar, which continued in its original 
simplicity through all the subsequent magnificence of 
the church till the time of the lieformation, It was 
probably the identical memorial erected in the first 
haste of enthusiasm after the reopening of the cathe- 
dral for worship in 1172. It was called the " Altar 
of the Martyrdom," or more commonly the " Altar of 
the Sword's Point" ("Altare ad Punctum Ensis "), 

^ See Nichols's Erasmus, p. 110; Somner's Canterbury, p. 18. 
2 See Garuier, p. 76, and " Murder of Becket," p. 102. 



232 ALTAR OF TPIE SWORD'S POINT. 

from the circumstance that in a wooden shed placed 
upon it was preserv'ed the fragment of Le Bret's sword, 
which had been left on the pavement after accomplish- 
ing its bloody work. Under a piece of rock crystal ^ 
surmounting the chest, was kept a portion of the brains. 
To this altar a regular keeper was appointed from 
among the monks, under the name of " Gustos Mar- 
tyrii." In the first frenzy of desire for the relics of 
Saint Thomas, even this guaranty was inadequate. Two 
memorable acts of plunder are recorded within the first 
six years, curiously illustrative of the prevalent passion 
for such objects. The first was accomplished by Bene- 
dict, a monk of Christ Church, probably the most dis- 
tinguished of his body ; who was, in 1176, appointed 
Abbot of Peterborough. Finding that great establish- 
ment almost entirely destitute of relics, he returned to 
his own cathedral, and carried off with him the flag- 
stones immediately surrounding the sacred spot, with 
which he formed two altars in the conventual church 
of his new appointment, besides two vases of blood and 
parts of Becket's clothing.^ The other instance is still 
more remarkable. The keeper of the " Altar of the Mar- 
tyrdom " at that time was Eoger. The monks of St. 
Augustine's Abbey offered to him (and their chroni- 
clers ^ are not ashamed to boast of the success of the 
experiment, though affecting to despise any addition to 
their own ancient store) no less an inducement than 
the vacant abbacy, in the hope of obtaining through 
his means for their church a portion of the remains of 

1 See Note F. 

2 Robert of Swaffham, in Hist. Anglic., p. 101. Benedict also built 
a chapel to Saint Thomas, b}"- the jrateway of the Precincts of Peter- 
borough. This still remains, and is now used as the cathedral 
school. 

3 Thorne, 1176; Holinshed. 



THE TOMB IN THE CRYPT. 233 

the sacred skull, which had beeu specially committed 
to his trust. He carried off the prize to the rival es- 
tablishment, and was rewarded accordingly. 

Next to the actual scene of the murder, the object 
which this event invested with especial sanctity was 
the tomb in which his remains were deposited in the 
crypt ^ behind the altar of tlie Virgin. It was to this 
spot that the first great rush of pilgrims was made 
when the church was reopened in 1172, and it was 
here that Henry performed his penance.^ Hither, on 
the 21st of August, 1179, came the first king of France 
who ever set foot on the shores of England, Louis VII. ; 
warned by Saint Thomas in dreams, and afterwards, 
as he believed, receiving his son back from a dangerous 
ilhiess through the saint's intercession. He knelt by 
the tomb, and offered upon it the celebrated jewel (of 
wdiich more shall be said hereafter), as also his own 
rich cup of gold. To the monks he gave a hundred 
measures of wine, to be paid yearly at Poissy, as well 
as exemption of toll, tax, and tallage,^ on going to or 
from his domains, and was himself, after passing a 
night in prayers at the tomb, admitted to the fraternity 
of the monastery in the Chapter House. It was on 
this occasion (such was the popular belief of the Dover 
seamen) that he asked and obtained from the saint 
(" because he was very fearful of the water " ) that 
" neither he nor any others that crossed over from 
Dover to Witsand should suffer any manner of loss or 

^ See " Murder of Becket," p. 117. On one occasion the body was 
removed to a wooden chest in fear of an assault from the old enemies 
of Becket, who were thought to be lurking armed about the church for 
that purpose. But they were foiled by the vigilance of the monks and 
by a miraculous storm. (Benedict, de Mirac, i. 50.) 

2 See " Murder of Becket," p. 140. 

3 Diceto, 604; Gervase, 1455; vStow, 155; Holinshed, ii. 178. 



234 THE FIRE OE 1174. 

shipwreck." ^ Eicliard's first act, on landing at Sand- 
wich, after his return from Palestine, was to walk all 
the way to Canterbury, to give thanks "to God and 
Saint Thomas" for his deliverance.^ Thither also 
came John in great state, immediately after his coro- 
nation.^ The spot was always regarded with rever- 
ence, and known by the name of " The Tomb," with 
a special keeper. It would probably have invested 
the whole crypt with its own peculiar sacredness, and 
rendered it — like that of Chartres in old times — the 
most important part of the church, but for an acci- 
dental train of circumstances which led to the erec- 
tion of the great shrine whose history is now to be 
unfolded. 

About four years after the murder, on the 5th of 
September, 1174, a fire broke out in the cathedral, 
which reduced the choir — hitherto its chief architect- 
ural glory — to ashes. The grief of the people is de- 
scribed in terms which (as has been before observed ^ ) 
show how closely the expression of mediaeval feeling 
resembled what can now only be seen in Italy or the 
East: "They tore their hair; they beat the walls and 
pavement of the church with their shoulders and the 
palms of their hands ; they uttered tremendous curses 
against God and his saints, — even the patron saint of 
the church ; they wished they had rather have died 
than seen such a day." How far more like the de- 
scription of a Neapolitan mob in disappointment at 
the slow liquefaction of the blood of Saint Januarius, 
than of the citizens of a quiet cathedral town in the 
county of Kent ! The monks, though appalled by the 
calamity for a time, soon recovered themselves ; work- 

1 Lambard's Kont, p, 129. - Brompton, 12.57. 

3 Uiceto, 706. * See "Murder of Becket," p. 91. 



RESTORATION OF THE CATHEDRAL. 235 

men and architects, French and English, were pro- 
cured ; and amongst the former, William, from the 
city of Sens, so familiar to all Canterbury at that 
period as the scene of Becket's exile. No observant 
traveller can have seen the two cathedrals without 
remarking liow closely the details of William's work- 
manship at Canterbury were suggested by his recollec- 
tions of his own church at Sens, built a short time 
before. The forms of the pillars, the vaulting of the 
roof, even the very bars and patterns of the windows, 
are almost identical. It is needless to go into the 
story of the restoration, thoroughly worked out as it 
has been by Professor Willis in his "Architectural 
History of Canterbury Cathedral ; " but it is important 
to observe, in the contemporary account preserved to us,^ 
how the position and the removal of the various relics 
is the principal object, if not in the mind of the archi- 
tect, at least in that of the monks who employed him. 
,lt was so even for the lesser and older relics, — much 
more then for the greater and more recent treasure for 
which they were to provide a fitting abode, and through 
which they were daily obtaining those vast pecuniary 
resources that alone could have enabled them to re- 
build the church on its present splendid scale. The 
French architect had unfortunately met with an acci- 
dent, which disabled him from continuing his opera- 
tions. After a vain struggle to superintend the works 
by being carried round the church in a litter, he was 
compelled to surrender the task to a namesake, an 
Englishman ; and it is to him that we owe the design 
of that part of the cathedral which was destined to 
receive the sacred shrine. 

1 Gervase, in the " Decern Scriptores ; " ami Professor Willis's His- 
tory of Canterbury Cathedral, chap. iii. 



236 SEPULTURE OF SAINTS. 

To those who are unacquainted with the fixed con- 
catenation of ideas, if one may so speak, which guided 
the arrangement of these matters at a time when they 
occupied so prominent a place in tlie thouglits of men, 
it might seem a point of comparative indifference where 
the tomb of the patron saint was to be erected. But 
it was not so in the age of which we speak. In 
this respect a marked difference prevailed between the 
primitive and southern practice on the one hand, and 
the mediaeval and northern practice on the other hand. 
In Italy the bones of a saint or martyr were almost 
invariably deposited either beneath or immediately in 
front of the altar. Partly, no doubt, this arose from 
the apocalyptic image of the souls crying from beneath 
the altar ; chiefly from the fact that in the original 
burial-places of the catacombs the altar, or table of 
the Eucharistic feast, was erected over the grave of 
some illustrious saint, so that they might seem even 
in death to hold communion with him. Eminent in- 
stances of this practice may be seen at Eome, in the 
vault supposed to contain the remains of Saint Peter ; 
and at Milan, in that which in the cathedral is occu- 
pied by the grave of Saint Carlo Borromeo, and in 
the Church of St. Ambrogio by that of Saint Ambrose. 
But in the Gothic nations this original notion of the 
burial-place of the saints became obscured, in the in- 
creasing desire to give them a more honorable place. 
According to the precise system of orientation adopted 
by the German and Celtic nations, the eastern portion 
of the church was in those countries regarded as pre- 
eminently sacred. Thither the high altar was gradu- 
ally moved, and to it the eyes of the congregation were 
specially directed. And in the eagerness to give a 
hifrher and holier even than the highest and the holiest 



SEPULTURE OF SAINTS. 237 

place to any great saint on whom popular devotion was 
fastened, there sprang up in most of the larger churches 
during the thirteenth century a fashion of throwing 
out a still farther eastern end, in which the shrine 
or altar of the saint might be erected, and to which, 
therefore, not merely the gaze of the whole congrega- 
tion, but of the ofiiciating priest himself, even as he 
stood before the high altar, might be constantly turned. 
Thus, according to Fuller's quaint remark, the super- 
stitious reverence for the dead reached its highest pitch, 
— " the porch saying to the churchyard, the church to 
the porch, the chancel to the church, the east end to 
all, ' Stand further off, I am holier than thou.' " ^ This 
notion happened to coincide in point of time with the 
burst of devotion towards the Virgin Mary, which took 
place under the Pontificate of Innocent III., during 
the first years of the thirteenth century ; and therefore, 
in all cases where there was no special local saint, this 
eastern end was dedicated to " Our Lady," and the 
chapel thus formed was called the " Lady Chapel." 
Such was the case in the cathedrals of Salisbury, 
Norwich, Hereford, Wells, Gloucester, and Chester. 
But when the popular feeling of any city or neighbor- 
hood had been directed to some indigenous object of 
devotion, this at once took the highest place ; and the 
Lady Chapel, if any there were, was thrust down to a 
less honorable position. Of this arrangement, the most 
notable instances in England are, or were (for in many 
cases the very sites have perished), the shrines of St. 
Alban in Hertfordshire, St. Edmund at Bury, St. Ed- 
ward in Westminster Abbey, St. Cuthbert at Durham, 
and St. Etheldreda at Ely. 

These were the general principles which determined 

1 Church History, ii. ceut. viii. 28. 



238 ENLARGEMENT OF THE EAST END. 

the space to be allotted to the Shrine of St. Thomas in 
the reconstruction of Canterbury Cathedral.^ In ear- 
lier times the easternmost chapel had contained an 
altar of the Holy Trinity, where Becket had been 
accustomed to say Mass. Partly for the sake of pre- 
serving the two old Norman towers of St. Anselm and 
St. Andrew, which stood on the north and south side 
of this part of the church, but chietiy for the sake of 
fitly uniting to the church this eastern chapel on an 
enlarged scale, the pillars of the choir were contracted 
with that singular curve which attracts the eye of 
every spectator, — as Gervase foretold that it would, 
when, in order to explain this peculiarity, he stated 
the two aforesaid reasons.^ The eastern end of the 
cathedral, thus enlarged, formed, as at Ely, a more 
spacious receptacle for the honored remains ; the new 
Trinity Chapel, reaching considerably beyond the ex- 
treme limit of its predecessor, and opening beyond into 
a yet further chapel, popularly called " Becket's Crown." 
The windows were duly filled with the richest painted 
glass of the period, and amongst those on the northern 
side may still be traced elaborate representations of 
the miracles wrought at the subterraneous tomb, or 
by visions and intercessions of the mighty saint. High 
in the tower of St. Anselm, on the south side of the 
destined site of so great a treasure, was prepared — a 
usual accompaniment of costly shrines — the " Watch- 
ing Chamber.'' ^ It is a rude apartment, with a fire- 
place where the watcher could warm himself during 
the long winter nights, and a narrow gallery between 

1 Gervase (in Willis's Canterbury Catliedral, p. 56). 

2 Ibid., p. 60. 

3 A similar purpose may be assigned to the structures near the site 
of St. Frideswide's Shrine in the Cathedral of Christ Church, Oxford ; 
and of St. Alban's Shrine in the Abbey of St. vVlbaus, in Hertfordshire. 



Trinity Chapel. 



TRANSLATION OF THE RELICS. 239 

the pillars, whence he could overlook the whole plat- 
form of the shnne, and at once detect any sacrilegious 
robber who was attracted by the immense treasures 
there collected. On the occasion of tires the shrine was 
additionally guarded by a troop of fierce bandogs.^ 

When the cathedral was thus duly prepared, the 
time came for what, in the language of those days, 
was termed the " translation " of the relics. 

It was the year 1220,- — in every sense, so the con- 
temporary chronicler observes,^ an auspicious moment. 
It seemed to the people of the time as if the long de- 
lay had been interposed in order that a good king and 
a good archbishop might be found together to solemnize 
the great event. The wild Richard and the wicked 
John had gone to their account, and there was now 
seated on the throne the young Henry III. ; his child- 
hood (for he was but a boy of thirteen), his unpretend- 
ing and inoffensive character, won for him a reputation 
which he hardly deserved, but which might well be 
granted to him after such a predecessor. The first 
troubled years of his reign were finished ; the later 
calamities had not begun. He had just laid the first 
foundation of the new Abbey Church of Westminster, 
and all recollection of his irregular coronation at 
Gloucester had been effaced by his solemn inaugura- 
tion on May 17, the Whitsunday of this very year. 
The primate to whose work the lot fell, was one whose 
name commands far more unquestioned respect than 
the weak King Henry ; it was the Cardinal Arch- 
bishop, the great Stephen Langton, whose work still 
remains amongst us in the familiar division of the 

1 Ellis's Original Letters, third series, iii 164. 

2 Robert of Gloucester, who observes all the coincidences in his 
metrical " Life of Becket," 2820. 



240 LANGTON. 

Bible into chapters, and in tlie Magna Cbarta, which 
he was the chief means of wresting from the reluc- 
tant John. He was now advanced in years, recently 
returned from his long exile, and had just assisted at 
the coronation of the king at Westminster. The year 
also and the day, in that age of ceremonial observance 
of times and seasons, seemed providentially marked 
out for such an undei taking. The year was the fiftieth 
year from the murder, which thus gave it the appear- 
ance of a jubilee ; and it was a bissextile or leap year, 
and this seemed an omen that no day would be want- 
ing for the blessings to be procured through the Mar- 
tyr's intercession. The day also was marked by the 
coincidences which had made a lasting impression on 
the minds of that period, — Tuesday, the 7th of July : 
Tuesday, the fatal day of Becket's life; the 7th of 
July also, the same day of the month on which thirty 
years before the remains of his royal adversary, Henry 
II., had been carried to the vault of the Abbey of Fon- 
tevraud.^ There must have been those living who re- 
membered the mournful spectacle : the solitary hearse 
descending from the castle of Chin on, where the un- 
happy king had died deserted by friends and children ; 
the awful scene when the scanty procession was met 
at the entrance of the abbey by Richard, — when the 
face of the dead corpse was uncovered as it lay on the 
bier, marked with the expression of the long agony of 
death, — when (according to the popular belief) blood 
gushed from the nostrils, as if to rebuke the unnatural 
son for his share in having thus brought his father's 
gray hairs in sorrow to the grave. 

1 All these coincidences are noticed by Langtou in a tract or sermon 
circulated by him in the following year, to keep up the memory of the 
Translation, published in Giles's Collection, ii. 276. 



LANGTOX. 241 

The contrast of that scene with the funeral, which 
now took place on the anniversary of the day, in 1220, 
must have been, even to indifferent bystanders, most 
striking. It was indeed a magnificent spectacle. Such 
an assemblage had never been collected in any part 
of England before ; ^ all the surrounding villages were 
filled,— 

" Of bishops and abbots, priors and parsons, 
Of earls, and of barons, and of many knights thei-eto ; 
Of Serjeants, and of squires, and of husbandmen enow 
And of simple men eke of the land — so thick thither drew." 2 

The Archbishop had given two years' notice in a 
proclamation, circulated not only throughout England 
but throughout Europe ; and through the range of his 
episcopal manors had issued orders for maintenance 
to be provided for the vast multitude, not only in the 
city of Canterbury itself, but on the various roads by 
which they would approach.^ During the whole cele- 
bration, along the wliole way from Loudon to Canter- 
bury, hay and provender was given to all who asked ; ■* 
and at each gate of Canterbury,^ in the four quarters 
of the city, and in the four licensed cellars, were placed 
tuns of wine, to be distributed gratis ; and on the day 
of the festival wine ran freely through the gutters of 
the streets.^ 

On the eve of the appointed day the Archbishop, 
with rdchard. Bishop of Salisbury, and the whole body 
of monks, headed by their prior, Walter, entered the 
crypt by night with psalms and hymns ; and after 
prayer and fasting, at midnight solemnly approached 

1 Waverley Annals ; Gale's Scriptores, iii. 185. 

2 Robert of Gloucester, 2848. ^ Waverley Annals ; Gale. 
* Polistoire. See Note A. 5 Knyghton, 2430. 

^ Archaeologia, i.x. 42 ; Polistoire. See Note A. 
IG 



242 LANGTON. 

the tomb and removed the stones which closed it, and 
with tears of joy ^ saw for the first time the remains of 
the saint. Four priests, distinguished for the sanctity 
of their lives, took out the relics, — first the head (then, 
as always, kept separate), and offered it to be kissed. 
The bones were then deposited in a chest well studded 
with iron nails and closed with iron locks, and laid in 
a secret chamber. 

The next day a long procession entered the cathe- 
dral. It was headed by the young king, — "King Hen- 
ry, the young child." Next was the Italian Pandulf, 
Bishop of Norwich, and Legate of the Holy See ; and 
Archbishop Langton, accompanied by his brother Pri- 
mate of France, the Archbishop of Eheims. With 
them was Hubert de Burgh, the Lord High Justiciary 
and greatest statesman of his time, and " four great 
lordlings, noble men and tried." On the shoulders of 
this distinguished band the chest was raised, and the 
procession moved forward. The king, on account of 
his tender age, was not allowed to take any part in 
bearing the sacred load. Onwards it was borne, and 
up the successive stages of the cathedral, till it reached 
the shrine awaiting its reception, eastward of the Pa- 
triarchal Chair,2 and there it was deposited. Mass 
was celebrated by the French Primate, in the midst of 
nearly the whole ^ episcopate of the province of Can- 
terbury, before an altar, which, placed in front of the 
screen of the choir, was visible to the vast congrega- 
tion assembled in the nave.^ The day was enrolled 
amongst the great festivals of the English Church as 

1 Robert of Gloucester, 2374. 

2 Polistoire. See Note A. 

3 Tliree only were absent. See Note A. 

* Dr. Pauli's History of Euglaud, iii. 529. 



APPROACH FROM SANDWICH. 243 

the Feast of the Translation of Saint Thomas. The 
expenses incurred by the See of Canterbury were 
hardly paid off by Langton's fourth successor.^ 

And now began the long succession of pilgrimages 
which for three centuries gave Canterbury a place 
amongst the great resorts of Christendom, and which, 
through Chaucer's poem, have given it a lasting hold 
on the memory of Englishmen as long as English lit- 
erature exists. Let us endeavor, through the means of 
that poem and through other incidental notices, to re- 
produce the picture of a mode of life which has now 
entirely passed away from England, though it may still 
be illustrated from some parts of the Continent. 

There were during this period three great approaches 
to Canterbury. For pilgrims who came from the east- 
ern parts of Europe, Sandwich was the ordinary place 
of debarkation. From this point the kings of Eng- 
land on their return from France, and the kings of 
France on their way to England, must commonly have 
made their journey. Two records of this route are pre- 
served by foreigners.^ In one respect the travellers of 
that age and this were on a level. As they crossed the 
Channel, they were dreadfully sea-sick, and " lay on the 
deck as if they were dead ; " but they had still life 
enough left to observe the various objects of the strange 
land that they were approaching. The white cliffs of 
Dover, as they rose into view above the sea, seemed 
" like mountains of snow ; " of Dover Castle they speak 
as we might speak of Sebastopol, — " the strongest for- 
tress in Christendom." Sailing by this tremendous 

1 Knyghton, 2730. 

'^ See the short account of the visit of Sigismund in 1417, by Wen- 
deck ; and the longer account of the visit of the Bohemian ambassador 
in 1446, as given in Note B. 



244 APPROACH FROM SOUTHAMPTON. 

place, — the work, they were told, of evil spirits, — they 
arrived at Sandwich. It is striking to perceive the im- 
pression which that now decayed and deserted haven 
produced on their minds ; they speak of it as we might 
speak of Liverpool or Portsmouth, — the resort of ships 
from all quarters, vessels of every size, — now seen by 
them for the first time ; and most of all, the agility of 
the sailors in running up and down the masts, — one, 
especially, absolutely incomparable. From this busy 
scene they moved onwards to Canterbury. Their ex- 
pectations had been highly raised by its fame in foreign 
parts ; at a distance, however, the point that chiefly 
struck them was the long line of leaden roof, un- 
like the tiled covering of the continental cathedrals.^ 
What they saw at the Shrine of " Saint Thomas of 
Kandelberg," ^ as they called him in their own coun- 
try, shall be seen as we proceed. 

Another line of approach was along the old British 
track which led across the Surrey downs from South- 
ampton ; it can still be traced under the name ^ of the 
Pilgrims' Way, or the Pilgrims' Lane, marked often by 
long lines of Kentish yews, — usually creeping half- 
way up the hills immediately above the line of cultiva- 
tion, and under the highest crest, — passing here and 
there a solitary chapel or friendly monastery, but avoid- 
ing for the most part the towns and villages and the 
regular roads, probably for the same reason as "in 
the days of Sharagar, the son of Anath, the highways 



1 " Desuper stanno totum coutegitur." (Leo von Eotzmital, pp. 39, 
44.) They observe the same of Salishnry. (Ibid., p. 46.) 

2 So he is called both by the Bolieniians (see Note B) and by 
the Germans. (Wendeck's Life of the Emperor Sigismund, chap, 
xlii.) 

3 See Mr. Way's account of the " Pilgrims' Road," in Note D, 



"CANTERBURY TALES." 245 

were unoccupied, and the travellers walked through 
bye-ways." ^ 

This must have been the usual route for pilgrims 
from Normandy and from the West of England. But 
no doubt the most frequented road was that from Lon- 
don, celebrated in Chaucer's poem of the " Canterbury 
Tales." It would be out of place here to enter on any 
general review of that remarkable work. All that can 
here be proposed is to examine how far the poem illus- 
trates, or is illustrated by, the Canterbury pilgrimage 
which suggested it. 

In the first place, we may observe that every element 
of society except the very highest and lowest was rep- 
resented, — the knight, the yeoman, the prioress with 
her attendant nuns and three priests, the monk, the 
friar, the merchant, the Oxford scholar, the lawyer, 
the squire, the five tradesmen, the cook, the shipman, 
the physician, the great clothier of Bath, the parish 
priest, the miller, the reeve, the manciple, the ap- 
paritor of the law-courts, the seller of indulgences, 
and the poet himself. Tliese no doubt are selected as 
the types of the classes who would ordinarily have 
been met on such an excursion. No one can read the 
account of their characters, still less the details of 
their conversation, without being struck by the ex- 
tremely miscellaneous nature of the company. On the 
one hand, we see how widely the passion for pilgrim- 
ages extended, how completely it swept into its vortex 
all the classes who now travel together in excursion- 
trains or on Rhine steamboats. On the other hand, 
we see how light a touch it laid on the characters of 
those concerned, — how much of levity, how little 

^ Compare Arnold's Lectures on Modern History (Lecture IL), 
where the same observation is made on ancient roads generally. 



246 "CANTERBURY TALES." 

of gravity, was thought compatible with an object pro- 
fessedly so serious. As relics took the place of all the 
various natural objects of interest which now occupy 
the minds of religious, literary, or scientific men, so 
pilgrimages took the place of modern tours. A pil- 
grim was a traveller with the same adventures, stories, 
pleasures, pains, as travellers now ; the very names by 
which we express the most listless wanderings are 
taken from pilgrimages to the most solemn places. 
If we may trust etymological conjectures, a "roamer" 
was one who had visited the Apostles' graves at Rome ; 
and a "saunterer" one who had wandered through the 
" Sainte terre," or Holy Land ; and, in like manner, the 
easy "'canter" of our modern rides is an abbreviation, 
comparatively recent, of the " Canterbury gallop," ^ de- 
rived, no doubt, from the nmbling pace of the Canter- 
bury pilgrims. Let us be thankful for the practice in 
this instance, as having given us in Chaucer's prologue 
an insight into the state of society in the fourteenth 
century such as nothing else can furnish. 

Li the second place, we learn, from his selection of 
such a company and such a time as the vehicle of his 
tales, how widely spread was the fame of Canterbury 
as the resort of English pilgrims. Every reader, he 
felt, would at once understand the scene ; and that he 
felt truly is shown by the immense popularity of his 
work at the time. And further, thougli the details of 
the plan as laid down in his prologue are a mere crea- 
tion of the poet's fancy, yet the practice of telling 
stories on the journeys to and from Canterbury must 
have been common in order to give a likelihood to such 

1 Even in Johnson's Dictionary, "Canterbury gallop" is given as 
tlie full expression, of which " canter " is only mentioned as a collo- 
quial corruption. 



"CANTERBURY TALES." 247 

a plan. It was even a custom for the bands of pilgrims 
to be accompanied by hired minstrels and story-tellers, 
as the friends of the practice maintained, that " with 
such solace the travail and weariness of pilgrims might 
be lightly and merrily borne out ; " as their enemies 
said, " that they might sing wanton songs, and then, 
if these men and women be half a month out in their 
pilgrimage, many of them shall be, half a year after, 
great jugglers, story-tellers, and liars." ^ And, in point 
of fact, the marvels that were related on these occa- 
sions, probably on the return from the wonder-working 
shrine, were such as to have given rise to the proverbial 
expression of a " Canterbury Tale," as identical with 
a fabulous story. It is noticed as such even as late as 
the time of ruller,^ and although it is now probably 
extinct in England, it travelled with many other old 
provincialisms across the Atlantic ; and our brethren 
of the United States, when they come to visit our 
metropolitical city, are struck by the strange familiar- 
ity with which its name recurs to them, having from 
their earliest years been accustomed to hear a marvel- 
lous story followed by the exclamation, " What a Can- 
terbury ! " ^ In conceiving the manner in which these 
tales were related, a moment's reflection will show us 
that they were not told, as we often imagine, to the 
whole company at once. Every one who has ridden in 
a cavalcade of travellers along a mountain pathway — 
and such, more or less, were the roads of England at 
the time of Chaucer — will see at once that this would 

1 Dialogue of Archbishop Arundel and William Thorpe (Nichols's 
Erasmus, p. 188). 

- Fuller's Worthies, Kent (Proverbs). 

^ This observation I derived from an intelligent American clergy- 
man on a visit to Canterbury. 



248 "CANTERBURY TALES." 

be impossible. Probably they were, in point of fact, re- 
lated in the midday lialts or evening meals of the party. 
In the present instance the poet represents the host as 
calling the story-teller out of the ranks to repeat the 
tale to him as the judge. "Do him come forth," he 
cries to the cook ; and to the monk, " Head forth, mine 
own Lord ; " ' and the rest hear or not, according to their 
curiosity or their nearness, — a circumstance which to 
some extent palliates the relation of some of the coarser 
stories in a company which contained the prioress, the 
nuns, the parson, and the scholar. 

Finally, we cannot fail to mark how thoroughly the 
time and season of the year falls in with the genius and 
intention of the poet. It was, he tells us, the month 
of April. Every year, as regular as "April with his 
showers sweet " " the drought of March hath pierced 
to the root," came round again the Pilgrims' start, — 

" When Zephyrus eke with his sweet breath 
Inspired hath in every holt and heath, 

Tlie tender crops 

And small fowls are making melody 

That sleepen all night with open eye . . . 

Then longen folk to go on pilgrimages. 

And specially from every shire's end 

Of England, to Canterbury they wend 

The holy blissful martyr for to seek, 

That them hath holpen when that they were sick." 

These opening lines give the color to Chaucer's whole 
work ; it is in every sense the spring of English poe- 
try ; through every line we seem to feel the freshness 
and vigor of that early morning start, — as the merry 
cavalcade winds its way over the hills and forests of 
Surrey or of Kent. Never was the scene and atmos- 
phere of a poem more appropriate to its contents, more 
naturally sustained and felt tlirough all its parts. 

1 Chaucer, 1G9G0, 13930. 



"CANTERBURY TALES." 249 

When from the general iUustrations furnished by 
the Canterbury pilgrimage we pass to the details of 
tlie poem, there is unfortunately but little light thrown 
by one upon the other. Not only are the stages of the 
route indistinctly marked, but the geography of the 
poem, though on a small scale, introduces incongruities 
almost as great as those of the " Winter's Tale " and 
the " Two Gentlemen of Verona." The journey, al- 
though at that time usually occupying three or four 
days, is compressed into the hours between sunrise 
and sunset on an April day : an additional pilgrim is 
made to overtake them within seven miles of Canter- 
bury, " by galloping hard for three miles ; " and the 
tales of the last two miles occupy a space equal to an 
eighth part of the whole journey of fifty miles. Still, 
such as the local notices are, they must be observed. 

It was at the Tabard Inn in South wark that the 
twenty-nine pilgrims met. The site of the house is 
now marked by a humble tavern, — the Talbot Inn, No. 
75 High Street, Borough- road ; ^ a modern front faces 
the street, but at the back of a long passage a court- 
yard opens, surrounded by an ancient wooden gallery, 
not dating, it is said, beyond the sixteenth century. 
Some likeness, however, of the older arrangements is 
probably still preserved. Its former celebrity is com- 
memorated by a large picture or sign, hung from its 
balustrade, which represents, in faded colors, the Cav- 
alcade of the Pilgrims. Its ancient sign must have 
been the coat or jacket, now only worn by heralds, but 
then by noblemen in war ; and it was no doubt se- 
lected as the rendezvous of the Pilgrims, as the last 
inn on the outskirts of London before entering on the 
Wilds of Surrey. Another inn, long since disappeared, 

I Alas! the last traces of the Tabard Inu disappeared iu 1875. 



250 "CANTERBURY TALES." 

entitled " The Bell," was close by. The Tabard was 

doubtless, then, one of the most tiourishiug hotels in 

London, — 

" The chambers and the halls were wide." 

The host was a man of consideration, — 

" A fairer burgess was there uoue iu Cheep ; " 

that is, Cheapside, then the abode of the wealthiest 
citizens of London. He seems to have been a well- 
known character; and his name, Henry P>ailey, was 
remembered even till the time of Elizabeth.^ 

It was on the morning of the 28th of April, " when 
the day began to spring," that the company set forth 
from the inn, headed by the host, who was to act as 
guide, and who "gathered them together in a flock." 
Those who have seen the move of an Eastern caravan 
of European travellers can best form a notion of the 
motley group of grave and gay, old and young, that 
must have often been then gathered on the outskirts 
of London. A halt took place "a little more than a 
pace," at the second milestone, at the spring called 
from this circumstance "the Waterings of St. Thomas ; "^ 
thus corresponding to the well-known halt which cara- 
vans make a few miles from Cairo, on the first day's 
march, to see whether all the party are duly assem- 
bled and all the necessaries for the long journey duly 
provided. 

At half-past seven A.M they reached Deptford and 
Greenwich, — 

"Lo Deptford, and is half way prime : 
Lo Greenwich, there many a shrew is iu." 

By midday, — 

" Lo "Rochester standeth here fast by." ^ 

1 Tyrwhitt. Preface to Chaucer, § .5. See also the elaborate ac- 
count of the inn in Kniglit's Chaucer's Tales. 

2 Chaucer, 828. » Ibid., 1.390, .3950. 



ENTRANCE INTO CANTERBURY. 251 

Sittingbourne was probably the place for refresh- 
ment; 

" Before I come to Sideubourne," ^ 

implies that it was a point to be looked for as a halt. 

And now they were approaching the steep hills of 
the forest of Blean, when, probably anxious to join 
them before that long ascent, "at Boughton under 
Blee," the village which lies at the western foot of the 
hill, — a new companion overtook them, the servant of 
the rich canon, — so powerful an alchemist, that they 
are assured, as they go up the steep paved road, as it 
then was, now within seven miles from their destma- 
tion, — 

" Th.it all the ground on which we be riding, 
Till that we come to Canterbury town, 
He could all clean turn upside down, 
And pave it all of silver and of gold." ^ 

They now passed the point where all travellers along 
that road must have caught the welcome sight of the 
central tower of Canterbury Cathedral, with the gilded 
Ans;el then shinimr on its summit. For a moment the 
tower is seen, and then disappears, as the road sinks 
again amidst the undulations of the wild country, 
which still retains the traces of what was the great 
forest of Blee, or Blean, — famous in recent times as 
the resort of the madman, or fanatic, who rallied round 
him, in 1838, the rude peasants of the neighboring 

1 Chaucer, 6428. In the German account of Sigismuud's visit, it 
is mentioned as " Signpotz." (Wendeck, chap, xlii.) 

2 Chaucer, 16024, 160G6. It is an ingenious conjecture of Tyr- 
whitt, that a great confusion has been here introduced ; that the"Nuu's 
Tale" was intended to be on the return from Canterbury; and hence 
the otherwise difficult expression of the " five miles " silence before 
she begins, and of the " three miles " gallop of the canon's servant to 
overtake them. But as the text stands in Tyrwhitt's edition, the order 
must be as I have represented it. The arrangement of the mauu 
scripts of Chaucer is evidently very doubtful. 



252 ENTRANCE INTO CANTEEBURY 

villages in the thicket of Bosenden Wood. But they 
were now at the last halting-place, — just where the 
forest ends, just where the hilly ascent rises and falls 
for the last time, — 

" Wist ye not wliere staudeth a little town, 
Which that ycleped is Bob up aud dowu, 
Uuder the Blee iu Canterbury way." i 

There can be little doubt that this " little town " was 
the old village of Harbledown, clustered round the an- 
cient lazar-house of Lanfranc.^ Its situation on the 
crest of the hill, under the forest of Blean, suggested 
to the pilgrims the familiar name by which it is here 
called. They had but to go " up and down " once more, 
and the cathedral burst upon them. It was now, ac- 
cording to the poet's calculation, four in the afternoon, 
and they would easily reach Canterbury before sunset. 

Unfortunately, he 

" who left half told 
The story, of Canibuscau bold," 

has left unfinished the story of the travellers. The 
plan was to have embraced the arrival at Canterbury, 
and the stories of what there befell to be told on their 
return, and the supper at the Tabard, when the host 
was to award the prize to the best. For lovers of 
Chaucer's simple and genial poetry this is much to 
be lamented ; but for historical purposes the gap is in 
a great measure filled by the " Supplementary Tale," ^ 

^ Chaucer, 16950. The explanation here given has been contested 
by Mr. Fur ui vail. 

2 It was sometimes called the Hospitale de bosco de Blean. (Dug- 
dale, vol. i. part ii. p. 65.3.) 

3 The " Supplementary Tale " is printed in Urry's edition of Chau- 
cer, from a manuscript which is now lost ; and is reprinted from 
thence in Wright's edition of Chaucer, Percy Society, xxvi. 191 -.31 8, 
from whom I have quoted it, modernizing the spelling to make it 
intelligible. 



JUBILEES. 253 

evidently written within a short time after the poet's 
death, which relates the story of their arrival, and a 
few of their adventures in the city. By the help of 
this, and whatever other light can be thrown on the 
subject, we may endeavor to reproduce the general 
aspect which Canterbury and its pilgrims presented on 
their arrival. 

A great difference doubtless would have been made 
according to the time when we entered Canterbury, 
whether with such an occasional group of pilgrims as 
might visit the shrine at ordinary seasons, or on the 
great days of Saint Thomas ; either the winter festival 
of his " Martyrdom," on the 29tli of December, or the 
summer festival of the " Translation " of his relics, on the 
7th of July,^ which (as falling in a more genial season) 
was far more frequented. Still greater would have 
been the difference had we been there at one of the ju- 
bilees, — that is, one of the fiftieth anniversaries of the 
"Translation;" when indulgences were granted to all 
who came, and the festival lasted for a fortnight, dating 
from midnight on the vigil of the feast. There were, 
from the first consecration of the shrine to its final 
overthrow, six such anniversaries, — 1270, 1320, 1370, 
1420, 1470, 1520. What a succession of pictures of 
English history and of the religious feeling of the time 
would be revealed if we could but place ourselves in 
Canterbury as those successive waves of pilgrimage 
rolled through the place, bearing with them all their 
various impressions of the state of the world at that 
time ! On one of those occasions, in 1420, no less 
than a hundred thousand persons were thus collected. 

1 On this day began the annual Canterbury Fair, which continued 
long after the cessation of the Pilgrimage, under the name of " Beck- 
et's Fair." (Somner's Canterbury, p. 124.) 



254 JUBILEES. 

They came from all parts, but chiefly from the British 
dominions, at that time — immediately after the great 
battle of Agiucourt — extending far over the neighbor- 
ing continent. Englishmen, with their language just 
struggling into existence ; Scotch, Irish, and Welsh, 
with their different forms of Celtic ; Frenchmen and 
Normans, and the inhabitants of the Channel Islands, 
pouring forth their questions in French, — are amongst 
those expressly stated to have been present.^ How 
various, too, the motives, — some, such as kings and 
ministers of state, from policy and ancient usage ; 
others merely for the excitement of a long journey 
with good companions , others travelling from shrine 
to shrine, as men now travel from watering-place to 
watering-place, for the cure of some obstinate disorder ; 
some from the genuine feeling of religion, that ex- 
presses itself in lowly hearts under whatever is the 
established form of the age ; some from the grosser 
superstition of seeking to make a ceremonial and lo- 
cal observance the substitute for moral acts and holy 
thoughts. What a sight, too, must have been pre- 
sented, as all along the various roads through the long 
summer day these heterogeneous bands — some on 
horseback, some on foot — moved slowly along, with 
music and song and merry tales, so that " every town 
they came thro', what with the noise of their singing, 
and with the sound of their piping, and with the 
jangling of their Canterbury bells, and with the bark- 
ing of the dogs after them, they made more noise than 
if the King came there with all his clarions and many 
other minstrels. . . . And when one of the pilgrims 
that goeth barefoot striketh his toe upon a stone, and 
hnrteth him sore, and maketh him bleed," then "his 

1 Somuer, part i., Appendix, no. xliv. 



THE INNS. 255 

fellow sings a song, or else takes out of his bosom a 
bagpipe to drive away with wit and mirth the hurt of 
his fellow." ^ Probably at the first sight of the cathe- 
dral this discordant clamor would be exchanged for 
more serious sounds, — hymns, and exhortations, and 
telling of beads, — even Chaucer's last tale between 
Harbledown and Canterbury is a sermon ; and thus 
the great masses of human beings would move into 
the city. 

Their first object would be to find lodgings. It is 
probable that to meet this want there were many more 
inns at Canterbury than at present. At the great sanc- 
tuary of Einsiedlen, in Switzerland, almost every house 
in the long street of the straggling town which leads 
up to the monastery is decorated with a sign, amount- 
ing altogether to no less than fifty. How many of the 
present inns at Canterbury date from that time cannot 
perhaps be ascertained. One — the Star Inn, in St. Dun- 
stan's Parish, which is supposed to have been the recep- 
tacle of the pilgrims who there halted on their entrance 
into the town — has long since been absorbed in the 
surrounding houses. But the site and in part the 
buildings of the lodgings which, according to the " Sup- 
plementary Tale," received the twenty-nine pilgrims of 
Chaucer, can still be seen, although its name is gone 
and its destination altered.- " The Chequers of the 
Hope " occupied the antique structure which, with its 
broad overhanging eaves, forms so picturesque an ob- 
ject at the corner of High Street and Mercery Lane. 
It was repaired on a grand scale by Prior Chillenden,-^ 

1 William Thorpe's Examination, in Nichols's Erasmus, p. 188. 

2 " At Chekers of the Hope that every man doth know." — Supple- 
menfary Tale, 14. 

3 Wharton's Ancrlia Sacra, i. 143. " Unnm hospitium famosnm 
vocatum ' Le Cheker ' cum aliis diversis mausiouibus, nohiliter cediji- 



256 THE CHEQUEKS. 

shortly after the time of Chaucer. Its vicinity to the 
great gate of the precincts naturally pointed it out as 
one of the most eligible quarters for strangers, whose 
main object was a visit to the shrine; and the remains 
still observable in the houses, which for more than two 
centuries have been occupied by the families of the 
present inhabitants,^ amply justify the tradition. It 
was a venerable tenement, entirely composed, like 
houses in Switzerland, of massive timber, chiefly oak 
and chestnut. An open oblong court received the pil- 
grims as they rode in. In the upper story, approached 
by stairs from the outside, which have now disappeared, 
is a spacious chamber, supported on wooden pillars, and 
covered by a high pitched wooden roof, traditionally 
known as " the Dormitory of the Hundred Beds." 
Here the mass of the pilgrims slept ; and many must 
have been the prayers, the tales, the jests, with which 
those old timbers have rung, — many and deep the 
slumbers which must have refreshed the wearied trav- 
ellers who by horse and foot had at last reached the 
sacred city. Great, too, must have been the interest 
with which they walked out of this crowded dormi- 
tory at break of day on the flat leads which may be 
still seen running round the roof of the court, and com- 
manding a fall view of the vast extent of the south- 
ern side of the cathedral. With the cathedral itself a 



carlt." Does this mean "repaired" or "built"? If the latter, tlie 
reception of Cliaucer's "pilgrims in the Chequers" is an anachro- 
nism of the " Supplementary Tale." He also built the Crown Inn. 
But it may be questioned whether the " Cheker " is not the inn (di- 
versorium) mentioned in connection with the Cheker or saccarinm 
(countin_e;-house) in the precincts adjoining the present Library. (Wil- 
lis's Conventual Buildings of Christ Church, p. 102.) 

1 To the obliging attention of the present occupants I owe the in- 
formation here given. 



THE CONVENTS. 257 

communication is said to exist by means of a subter- 
raneous gallery, of which the course can be in part 
traced under the houses on the western side of Mercery 
Lane. 

Besides the inns, were many other receptacles for the 
pilgrims, both high and low. Kings and great persons 
often lodged in St. Augustine's Abbey. Over the gate, 
of the abbey a sculptured figure represents a pilgrim 
resting with a wallet on his back. Many would find 
shelter in the various hospitals or convents, — of St. 
John, St. Gregory, St. Lawrence, and St. Margaret ; of 
the Gray, of the Black, and of the Austen Friars. The 
Hospital of Eastbridge both traced its foundation to 
Saint Thomas, whose name it bore, and also was in- 
tended for the reception of pilgrims ; ^ twelve of whom 
were, especially if sick, to be provided with beds and 
attendance. Above all, the priory attached to the ca- 
thedral would feel bound to provide for the reception 
of guests on whose contributions and support its fame 
and wealth so greatly depended. It is by bearing this 
in mind that we are enabled to understand how so 
large a part of conventual buildings was always set 
aside for strangers. Thus, for example, by far the 
greater portion of the gigantic monastery of the Grande 
Chartreuse was intended to be occupied by guests. The 
names of " Aula Burgundia?," " Aula Franciie," " Aula 
Aquitanice," still mark the assignment of the vast halls 
to the numerous pilgrims from all parts of feudal and 
at that time still divided France, who, swarming from 
the long galleries opening into their private chambers, 
were there to be entertained in common. So on a 
lesser scale at Canterbury : the long edifice of old gray 
stone, long apportioned as the residence of " the elev- 

1 Dugdale, vol. i. part ii. p. 91. 
17 



258 ENTRANCE INTO THE CATHEDRAL. 

enth canon," overlooking " the Oaks," then the garden 
of the convent, was the receptacle for the greater 
guests ;^ that at the southwest corner of the "Green- 
court," for the ordmary guests, who were biought 
through the gate of the court, thence under the old 
wooden cloister, which still in part remains, and then 
lodged in the Strangers' Hall, with a steward appointed 
to look after all their wants.^ 

In the city many preparations were made for the 
chief Festival of Saint Thomas. A notice was placed on 
a post in the " King Street," opposite the " Court Hall," 
ordering the provision of lodging for pilgrims. Expen- 
sive pageants were got up, in which the " ]\Iartyrdom " 
was enacted, on the eve of the festival.^ Accounts are 
still preserved of payments for " Saint Thomas's gar- 
ment," and the "knights' armour," and gunpowder for 
fireworks, and " staves and banners," to be carried out 
before the "morris pykes " and the gunners.* 

From these various receptacles the pilgrims would 
stream into the precincts. The outside aspect of the 
cathedral can be imagined without much difficulty, — a 
wide cemetery, which with its numerous gravestones, 
such as that on the south side of Peterborough Ca- 
thedral, occupied the vacant space still called the 
Churchyard, divided from the garden beyond by the 
old Norman arch since removed to a more convenient 
spot. In the cemetery were interred such pilgrims as 
died during their stay in Canterbury. The external 

1 Somner, Appendix, p. 1.3, no. xvii. 

2 Somner, p. 9.3. 

3 Archffiologia, xxxi. 207-209. Such plays were probably general 
on this festival. There is in the archives of Norwicli Cathedral a record 
of their performance on the Eve of Saint Tliomas, at the ancient Chapel 
of St. William, the Patron Saint of Norwich, on Household Heath. 

^ Hasted, iv. 573. 



Norman Porch. 



THE NAVE. 259 

aspect of the cathedral itself, with the exception of 
the numerous statues which then filled its now vacant 
niches, must have been much what it is now. Not so 
its interior. Bright colors on the roof, on the windows, 
on the monuments; hangings suspended from the rods 
which may still be seen running from pillar to pillar ; 
chapels and altars and cliantries intercepting the view, 
where now all is clear, must have rendered it so differ- 
ent that at first we should hardly recognize it to be the 
same building. 

At the church door the miscellaneous company of 
pilgrims had to arrange themselves " every one after 
his degree," — 

" The courtesy gan to rise 
Till the knight of gentleness tliat knew right well the guise. 
Put forth the prelate, the parson, and his fere." ^ 

Here they encountered a monk, who with the ''spren- 
gel " sprinkled all their heads with holy water. After 
this, 

" The knight went with his compeers round the holy shrine, 
To do that they were come for, and after for to dine." 

The rest are described as waiting for a short time be- 
hind, the friar trying to get the ' sprengel " as a device 
to see the nun's face ; whilst the others — the " par- 
doner, and the miller, and other lewd sots " — amused 
themselves with gaping at the fine painted windows, of 
which the remnants in the choir are still a chief orna- 
ment of the cathedral, but wliich then filled the nave 
also. Their great difficulty was — not unnaturally — 
to make out the subjects of the pictures. 

" ' He heareth a hall-staff,' quoth the one, 'and also a rake's end ; ' 
* Thou failest,' quoth the miller, ' thou hast not well thy mind ; 
It is a spear, if thou canst see, with a prick set hefore. 
To push adown his enemy, and through the shoulder bore.' " 

^ Supplementary Tale, 134 



2G0 THE MARTYRDOM. 

" Peace;' quotli the host of Southwark, breaking in 
upon this idle talk, — 

" ' Let stand tlie window glazed ; 
Go up and do your offerings, ye seenieth half amazed.' " i 

At last, therefore, they fall into the tide of pilgrims, 
and we have now to follow them through the church. 
There were two courses adopted, — sometimes they paid 
their devotions at the shrine first, and at the lesser ob- 
jects afterwards ; sometimes at the shrine last. The 
latter course will be most convenient to pursue for 
ourselves.^ 

The first object was the Transept of the Martyrdom. 
To this they were usually taken through the dark pas- 
sage under the steps leading to the choir. It was great- 
ly altered after the time of the murder : the column by 
which Becket had taken his stand had been removed to 
clear the view of the wooden altar erected to mark the 
spot where he fell ; the steps up which he was ascend- 
ing were removed, and a wall, part of which still re- 
mains,'" was drawn across the transept to facilitate the 
arrangements of the entrance of great crowds. The 
Lady Chapel, which had then stood in the nave, had 
now taken the place of the chapels of St. Benedict and 
St. Blaise, which were accommodated to their new des- 
tination. The site, however, of the older Lady Chapel 
in the nave was still marked by a stone column. On 
this column — such was the story told to foreign pil- 
grims — had formerly stood a statue of the Virgin, 
which had often conversed with Saint Thomas as he 
prayed before it. The statue itself was now shown m 

1 Supplementary Tale, 150. 

- The following account is taken chiefly from Erasmus's Pilgrimage, 
with such occasional illustrations as are furnished from other .sources. 
3 The rest was removed in 1734 (Hasted, iv 520.) 



THE CRYPT. 261 

the choir, covered with pearls and precious stones.^ 
An inscription ^ over the door, still legible in the seven- 
teenth century, rudely indicated the history of the whole 
scene, — 

Est sacer intra locus venerabilis atque beatus 
Prffisul ubi Sanctus Tlionias est niartyrisatus." 

Those who visited the spot in the close of the fifteenth 
century might have seen the elaborate representation 
of the "Martyr" in the stained glass of the transept 
window. All that now remains is the long central 
band, giving the figures of the donors, King Edward 
IV. and his queen, the princesses his daughters, and 
the two unhappy children that perished in the Tower. 

Before the wooden altar the pilgrims knelt, and its 
guardian priest exhibited to them the various relics 
confided to his especial charge. But the one which sur- 
passed all others was the rusty fragment of Le Bret's 
sword, which was presented to each in turn to be 
kissed. The foreign pilgrims, by a natural mistake, 
inferred, from the sight of the sword, that the " Martyr " 
had suffered death by beheading.^ They were next led 
down the steps on the right to the crypt, where a new 
set of guardians received them. On great occasions 
the gloom of the old Norman aisles was broken by the 
long array of lamps suspended from the rings still seen 
in the roof, each surrounded by its crown of thorns. 
Here were exhibited some of the actual relics of Saint 
Thomas, — part of his skull, cased in silver, and also 
presented to be kissed; and hanging aloft the cele- 
brated shirt* and drawers of hair-cloth, which had 

1 Leo von Rotzmital, p. 154 ; Note B. On the whole, it seems more 
likely that the Lady Chapel in the nave is meant than that in the crypt. 
But this is doubtful. 

2 Somner, p. 91. ^ See Leo von Rotzmital; Note B. 

* So it was seen by Erasmus. (See Nichols, p. 47.) In 1465 it .seems 



262 THE CHOIR. 

struck such awe into the hearts of the monks on the 
night of his death.^ This was all that ordinary pil- 
grims were allowed to see ; but if they were persons of 
rank, or came with high recommendations, they were 
afterwards permitted to return, and the prior himself 
with lights exhibited the wonders of the Chapel of Our 
Lady Undercroft, carefully barred with iron gates, but 
within glittering with treasures beyond any other like 
shrine in England. Some portion of the stars of bright 
enamel may still be seen on the roof. 

Emerging from the crypt, the pilgrims mounted the 
steps to the choir, on the north side of which the great 
mass of general relics were exhibited. Most of them 
were in ivory, gilt, or silver coffers. The bare list of 
these occupies eight folio pages, and comprises upwards 
of four hundred items \^ some of these always, but 
especially the arm of Saint George,^ were offered to 
be kissed. 

" The holy relics each man with his mouth 
Kissed, as a goodly monk the names told and taught." 

Those who were curious as to the gorgeous altar-cloths, 
vestments, and sacred vessels were also here indulged 
with a sight of these treasures in tlie grated vault be- 
neath the altar. 

Leaving the choir, they were brought to the sacristy 

to have heen suspended (much as the Black Prince's coat) over the lid 
of the shrine. (Leo von Rotzmital, p. 154 ; Note B.) A fragment ap- 
])arently of the original toml) was here shown ; namely, a slip of lead 
inscribed with the title by which he was sometimes known, — " Thomas 
Acrensis." See Nichols, pp. 47, 120. 

1 See " Murder of Becket," p. 116. 

' As given in an Inventory of 1315. See Nichols's Erasmus, pp. 124, 
155; Dart's Antiquities of Canterbury, Appendix, pp. iv-xviii. 

3 The name is not given by Erasmus (p. 48) ; but the prominence 
given in Leo's account to the right arm of " our dear Lord, the Knight 
St. George " (Note B) seems to fix it. 



ST. ANDREW'S TOWER. 263 

in the northern aisle in St. Andrew's Tower. Here, 
again, the ordinary class of pilgrims was excluded ; but 
to the privileged were shown, besides the vast array of 
silk vestments and golden candlesticks, what were far 
more valuable in their eyes, — the rude pastoral staff 
of pearwood, with its crook of black horn, the rough 
cloak, and the bloody handkerchief of the " Martyr " 
himself. There was, too, a chest cased with black 
leather, and opened with the utmost reverence on 
bended knees, containing scraps and rags of linen, 
with which (the story must be told throughout) the 
saint wiped his forehead and blew his nose.^ 

And now they have reached the holiest place. Be- 
hind the altar, as has been already observed, was erected 
the shrine itself. What seems to have impressed every 
pilgrim who has left the record of his visit, as absolutely 
peculiar to Canterbury, was the long succession of as- 
cents, by which " church seemed," as they said, " to be 
piled on church," and " a new temple entered as soon 
as the first w^as ended." ^ This unrivalled elevation of 
the sanctuary of Canterbury was partly necessitated by 
the position of the original crypt, partly by the desire 
to construct the shrine immediately above the place of 
the saint's original grave, — that place itself being beauti- 
fied by the noble structure which now encloses it. Up 
these steps the pilgrims mounted, many of them prob- 
ably on their knees ; and the long and deep indentations 
in the surface of the stones even now bear witness to 
the devotion and the number of those who once as- 

1 Nichols's Erasmus, pp. 49, 57, 156. I quote the original words: 
" Fragmenta linteorum lacera plerumque mucci vestigium servantia. 
His, ut aiebant, vir pius extergebat sudorem e facie, sive collo. pituitam 
a naribus, aut si quid esset, similium sordium quibus non vacent hu- 
mana corpuscula." 

2 Note B, aud Nichols's Erasmus, p. 50. 



264 TRINITY CHAPEL. 

cended to the sacred platform of the eastern chapel. 
The popular hymn to Sahit Thomas, if it was not sug- 
gested, must at least have been rendered doubly im- 
pressive, by this continual ascent : — 

" Tu, per Tliomte sanyuiuem 

Quern pro te impeudit, 

Fac uos Christo scandere 

Quo Thomas ascendit. 
Gloria et liouore coronasti eum Doniine 
Et coustituisti eum supra opera mauuum tuarura 
Ut ejus meritis et precibus a Geheuuaj inceiidiis liberemur." ^ 

Near these steps, not improbably,^ they received ex- 
hortations from one or more of the monks as they 
approached the sacred place. 

Trinity Chapel in the thirteenth century, immedi- 
ately after the erection of the shrine, must have pre- 
sented a very different aspect from that which it wore a 
few generations later. The shrine then stood entirely 
alone ; no other mortal remains had yet intruded into 
the sacred solitude. Gradually this rule was broken 
through ; and the pilgrim of the fifteenth century must 
have beheld tlie shrine flanked on the right hand and 
the left by the tombs of the Black Prince and of Henry 
IV., then blazing with gold and scarlet. Why Arch- 
bishop Courtenay was brought into so august a company, 
is not clear ; it was against his own wish, and is said 
to have been at the express command of King Eichard 
1 1., who was at Canterbury at the time.^ These, how- 
ever, were the only exceptions. 

1 Wharton's Anglia Sacra, i. 121. 

2 Such seems the most probable explanation of the stone desk in 
the corresponding position in Gloucester Cathedral. Near the same 
place in Canterbury Cathedral in later times was erected the desk for 
the Bible and Fox's Martvrs. 

3 See " Edward the Black Prince," p. 175. 



THE CROWN. — THE SHRINE. 265 

The pilgrims were first led beyond the shrine to the 
easternmost apse, where was preserved a golden like- 
ness of the head of the saint/ richly studded with 
jewels. This either contained, or had contained, the 
scalp or crown of the saint, severed by Le Bret's sword ; 
and this probably was the altar often mentioned in 
offerings as the " Altar of the Head," ^ which gave its 
name to the eastern apse, called, from this, " Uecket's 
Crown." 

We now arrive at the shrine. Although not a trace 
of it remains, yet its position is ascertainable beyond 
a doubt, and it is easy from analogy and description to 
imagine its appearance. Two rude representations of it 
still exist, — one in a manuscript drawing in the British 
Museum, the other in an ancient stained window in 
Canterbury Cathedral.^ We are also assisted by the 
accurate descriptions which have been preserved of the 
Shrine of St. Cuthbert of Durham,* and by the only 
actual shrine^ now remaining in England, — that of 

1 See Nicliols, pp. 115, 116, 118. There is a confusion about the 
position of this relic ; but on tiie vviiole, there can be little doubt that 
it must at times have been exhibiteil iu this place. When the shrine 
was opened, so much of the skull was found with the rest of the bones, 
that a doubt naturally aro.-*e whether the large separate portion of the 
skull shown elsewhere was not an imposture. See Declaration of 
Faith, 1539; Nichols, p. 236 ; and Notes C and F. 

■^ The origin of the name of "Becket's Crown" is doubtful. Pro- 
fessor Willis (History of Canterbury Cathedral, p. 56) regards it as 
an architectural terra. Mr. Way (see Note F) regards it as derived 
from the scalp. The question is one which admits of much antiquarian 
argument. 

^ A fac-simile of the drawing in the Cotton MS. is annexed, 
with an explanatory note. An engraving and explanation of the 
representation in the Canterbury window will be found in Note K. 

* See Willis's Canterbury Cathedral, p. 100. 

^ In Chester Cathedral part of the Shrine of St. Werburga re- 
mains, converted into the episcopal throne. In Hereford Cathedral 
the shrine of St. Ethelbert remains, but is a mere tomb. In foreign 
churches the shrines of the Three Kings at Cologne, of St. Ferdinand 



266 THE SHRINE. 

Edward the Confessor in Westminster Abbey. The 
space which it covered may still be traced by the 
large purple stones which surround the vacant square. 
Above its eastern extremity was fixed in the roof a 
gilded crescent, still remaining. It has been conjec- 
tured, with some reason, that it may have been brought 
by some crusading pilgrim from the dome of an Ori- 
ental mosque, and that round it a group of Turkish 
Hags and horsetails hung from the roof over the shrine 
beneath, — like the banners of St. George's Chapel, 
Windsor.^ At its western extremity, separating it from 
the Patriarchal Chair, which stood where the Commu- 
nion Table is now placed, extended the broad pavement 
of mosaic, with its border of circular stones, ornamented 
with fantastic devices, chieHy of the signs of the Zo- 
diac, similar to that which surrounds the contemporary 
tombs of Edward the Confessor and Henry III. at 
Westminster. Immediately in front of this mosaic 
was placed the " Altar of St. Thomas," at the head of 
the shrine ; and before this the pilgrims knelt, where 
the long furrow in the purple pavement still marks the 
exact limit to which they advanced. Before them rose 
the shrine, secure with its strong iron rails, of which 
the stains and perhaps the fixings can still be traced 
in the broken pavement around. For those who were 
allowed to approach still closer, there were iron gates 

at Seville, and of St. Remigin.s at Rheims are perhaps the uearest 
likenes.ses. For the Shrine of Edward the Confessor I may refer to 
my " Historical Memorials of Westminster Abbey," chap. iii. To this 
instance must now be added tlie Shrine of St. Alban, so ingeniously 
discovered and restored in 1872. 

1 See the grounds for this explanation in Note G. In the Museum 
at Munich is a white silk mitre of the twelfth century, embroidered on 
one side with the martyrdom of Saint Stephen, on the other witli that 
of Saint Thomas ; over Saint Stephen are stars, over Saint Tiiomas 
a liand of Providence with tuv cresrenfs. 



•J^itkapfCanta-liurj,'^- ^ '' ' A 

SiCittfjili In nww J 




becket's shrine 



NOTE 
TO THE ENGRAVING OF THE SHRINE OF BECKET. 

The accorapauyiug engraving is a fac-simile of a drawing of the 
shrine in ink, on a folio page of the Cotton MS., Tib. E, viii. fol. 
2o9. It has been already engraved in Dugdale's Monasticon, i. 10, 
and partially in Nichols's Erasmus, pp. 118, 165, but with several devi- 
ations from the original. It is here given exactly as it appears in the 
manuscript, even to the bad drawing of the end of the shrine, and the 
effects of the fire which partially destroyed the manuscript in 1731, 
visible in the mutilated engravings of the page. It will be observed, 
on a comparison with the appearance in Dugdale and Nichols, that the 
skull and the bones on tlie lid of the iron chest are not (as there rep- 
resented) raised, but lie flat on the surface ; and are therefore, in all 
probability, not meant to portray the actual relics (which were inside), 
but only a carving or painting of them on tiie lid. The piece of the 
skull is also here exiiibited in a form much more conformable to the 
Avritten account than would be inferred from Dugdale's inexact copy. 

The burned inscriptions may be restored thus, from Dugdale's Latin 
translation of tliem, and from Stow's Annals (Anno 1.538), whose de- 
scription of the shrine is evidently taken from this manuscript, before 
it had been mutilated by the fire of 1731 : — 

(1) The title: — 

The form andjir/ure of the Shrine ofTho: Becket of Canterbury. 

(2) A statement respecting the tliree fiuials of the canopy: — 
Silver (jilt 60 ounces. [Silver g\\lt 80 ounces. Silver gill 60 ounces. 

(3) A description of the shrine: — 

Tern : II. 8. .^4// above the stone work was first of ivood, jeioels of gold set 
with stone [covered with plates of gold], wrought upon with gold ivier, 
then again with Jewells, gold, as 6ro[oches, images, angels, rings] 10 or 
12 toqether, cramped with gold into the ground of gold, the s [polls of 
which filled two] chests such as 6 or 8 men could but convey on out of 
the church. At [one side was a stone with] an Angell of gold pognting 
thereunto, offered ther by a king of France, [which King Henry put] 
into a ring, and wear it on his ^ thumb. 

(4) A description of the chest (not a table, as Mr. Nichols, p. 118, 
erroneously infers, from Dugdale's Latin translation of the inscription, 
but the itlentical iron chest deposited liy Langton within the golden 
shrine) ; — 

This chest of iron coh [tained the] bones of Thomas Beck[et, skull and] 
all, with the loounde [of his death] and the pece cut [out of his skull laid 
in the same wound]. 

1 Dugdale. in his Latia translation (p. 10), inserts here the word rapacious, 
" rapacl pollice." 



THE SHRINE. 269 

which opened. The lower part of the shrine was of 
stone, supported on arches ; and between these arches 
tlie sick and lame pilgrims were allowed to ensconce 
themselves, rubbing their rheumatic backs or diseased 
legs and arms against the marble which brought them 
into the nearest contact with the wonder-working body 
within. The shrine, properly so called, rested on these 
arches, and was at first invisible. It was concealed by 
a wooden canopy, probably painted outside with sacred 
pictures, suspended from the roof ; at a given signal ^ 
this canopy was drawn up by ropes, and the shrine 
then appeared blazing with gold and jewels ; the 
wooden sides were plated with gold, and damasked 
with gold wire ; cramped together on this gold ground 
were innumerable jewels, pearls, sapphires, balassas, 
diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, and also, " in the midst 
of the gold," rings, or cameos, of sculptured agates, 
carnelians, and onyx stones.^ 

As soon as this magnificent sight was disclosed, 
every one dropped on his knees ; and probably the 
tinkling of the silver bells attached to the canopy 
would indicate the moment to all the hundreds of 
pilgrims in whatever part of the cathedral they might 
be.^ The body of the saint in the inner iron chest was 
not to be seen except by mounting a ladder, which 

1 This is expressly stated with regard to St. Cnthbert's Slirine. 
(Willis's Canterbury Cathedral, p. 100; Kaine's Account of Durham 
Cathedral, pp. 52-55.) 

■^ This account is taken from Stow's Chronicle, 15.3S, and the Cotton 
MS. description of the Shrine. Both are given in Nichols's Erasmus, 
pp. 166, 167. Also "A Relation of England under Henry VII." by a 
Venetian (Camden Society). 

3 Compare Raine's Durham, p. 54. At St. Cuthbert's Shrine 
were " fine sounding silver bells attached to the ropes, wliich at the 
drawing up of the ropes made such a goodly sound that it stirred all 
the people's hearts in the church." 



270 THE REGALE OF FRANCE. 

would be but rarely allowed. But whilst the votaries 
knelt around, the Prior, or some other great officer of 
the monastery, came forward, and with a white wand 
touched the several jewels, naming the giver of each, 
and, for the benefit of foreigners, adding the Trench 
name of each, with a description of its value and mar- 
vellous qualities. A complete list of them ^ has been 
preserved to us, curious, but devoid of general interest. 
There was one, however, which far outshone the rest, 
and indeed was supposed to be the finest in Europe.^ 
It was the great carbuncle, ruby, or diamond, said to 
be as large as a hen's egg or a thumb-nail, and com- 
monly called " The Eegale of France." The attention 
of the spectators was riveted by the figure of an angel 
pointing to it. It had been given to the original tomb 
in the crypt by Louis VII. of France, when here on 
his pilgrimage. There were two legends current about 
it. One was that the king had refused it to Saint 
Thomas when alive. ^ The other was told to the pil- 
grims of the fifteenth century. " The king," so ran the 
story, " had come thither to discharge a vow made in 
battle, and knelt at the shrine, with the stone set in 
a ring on his finger. The Archbishop, wlio was pres- 
ent, entreated him to present it to the saint. So costly 
a gift was too much for the royal pilgrim, especially as 
it insured him good luck in all his enterprises. Still, 



1 The list of jewels (from the Inventory of 1315) is given in Nich- 
ols's Erasmus, p. 169. Diceto says, "Ne sit qui non credat, desit qui 
scribat." 

2 The account of the exhibition of the shrine is taken from Eras- 
mus (see Nichols, p. 55), Stow, and the Cotton MS. See Nichols, pp. 
166, 167; and the Bohemian Travellers, who give the story of the 
Regale of France (see Note B), and the Venetian's Relation of 
England under Henry VII. 

3 Andreas Marciauensis (Bouquet's Collection, xii. 423). 



THE REGALE OF FRANCE. 271 

as a compensation, he offered one hundred thousand 
florms for the better adornment of the shrme. The 
Primate was fully satisfied ; but scarcely had the re- 
fusal been uttered, when the stone leaped from the ring 
and fastened itself to the shrine, as if a goldsmith had 
fixed it there." ^ The miracle of course convinced the 
king, who left the jewel, with the one hundred thou- 
sand florins as well ; and it remained the wonder of the 
church, — so costly that it would suffice for the ran- 
som of a king of England, almost of England itself ; so 
bright that it was impossible to look at it distinctly, 
and at night burning like fire, but even on a cloudy 
evening " you saw it as if it were in your hand." 

The lid once more descended on the golden ark ; the 
pilgrims, 

" telling heartily their beads. 
Prayed to Saint Thomas in such wise as they could," '^ 

and then withdrew, down the opposite flight of steps 
from that which they had ascended. Those who saw 
the long files of pilgrims at Treves, at the time of the 
exhibition of the Holy Coat, in 1844, can best form 
a notion of this part of the scene at Canterbury. There, 
as at Canterbury, the long line of pilgrims ascended 
and descended the flights of steps which led to the 
space behind the high altar, muttering their prayers, 
and dropping their offerings into the receptacles 
which stood ready to receive them at the foot of either 
staircase. 

Where these offerings were made at Canterbury we 
are not told, but probably at each of the three great 
places of devotion, — the "Point of the Sword," the 
" Head," or " Crown," and " the Shrine." Ordinary pil- 
grims presented "silver brooches and rings ;" kings and 
1 See Note B. 2 Supplementary Tale, 168. 



272 THE WELL AND THE PILGEIMS' SIGNS. 

princes gave jewels or money, magnificent drapery, 
spices, tapers, cups, and statues of themselves in gold 
or silver.^ 

And now the hour arrived for departure. The hour 
of " the dinner," which had been carefully prepared by 
the host of Southwark, now approaching, 

" Thej^ drew to dinner-ward as it drew to noon." '^ 

But before they finally left the precincts, one part of 
their task still remained ; namely, to carry off memorials 
of the visit. Of these, the most important was fur- 
nished within the monastery itself. The story of the 
water mixed with the Martyr's blood ^ has been already 
mentioned ; and the small leaden bottles, or " ampulles," 
in which this was distributed, were the regular marks 
of Canterbury pilgrims. A step deeply worn away 
appears in the south aisle of the Trinity Chapel. It 
has been suggested that this was the spot where the 
pilgrims knelt to receive the blood. To later genera- 
tions the wonder was increased by showing a well in 
the precincts, into which, as the story ran, the dust 
and blood from the pavement had been thrown imme- 
diately after the murder, and called forth an abundant 
spring where before there had been but a scanty stream ; 
and this spring turned, it was said, both at the time and 
since, four times into blood and once into milk. With 
this water miracles were supposed to be wrought ; and 
fr6m the beginning of the fourteenth to the close of 
the fifteenth century, it was one of the greatest marvels 
of the place.* Absurd as the story was, it is worth 

1 See Nichols's Erasmus, pp. 108, 160. 

- Supplementary Tale, 190. '■^ See " Murder of Becket," p. 114. 

* The story of the well is given in tlie "Polistoirc" of the time of 
Edward II. ; by the Bohemian Travellers in the time of Edward IV. ; 
and by William Thomas, in the time of Henry VIII. (See Notes A, 



THE PILGRIMS' SIGNS. 273 

recording as being one of whicli the comparatively late 
origin can be traced by us, though wholly unsuspected 
by the pilgrims, and perhaps by the monks who profited 
by its wonders ; and thus an instance, even to the most 
credulous, of the manner in which such stories grad- 
ually grow lip round consecrated spots. But besides 
these leaden bottles, the pilgrims usually procured 
more common reminiscences on their way back to the 
inn. Mercery Lane, the narrow street which leads 
from the cathedral to the " Chequers," in all proba- 
bility takes its name from its having been the chief 
resort of the shops and stalls where objects of orna- 
ment or devotion were clamorously offered for sale to 
the hundreds who flocked by, eager to carry away some 
memorial of their visit to Canterbury. At that time 
the street was lined ^ on each side with arcades, like 
the " Eows " at Chester, underneath which the pilgrims 
could walk, and turn into the stalls on either side. 
Such a collection of booths, such a clamor of vend- 
ers, is the first sight and sound that meets every 
traveller who visits Loreto or Einsiedlen. Tlie ob- 
jects, as in these modern, so in those ancient resorts of 
pilgrimage, were doubtless mostly of that flimsy and 
trivial character so expressively designated by a word 

B, and C.) It is unknown to Gervase and the earlier chroniclers. 
The well was probably that which is in the old plans of the monastery 
marked Puteus, immediately on the north side of the choir, of which 
all traces have now disappeared. Two remarkable instances of mi- 
raculous springs may be mentioned, of which, as in this case, the later 
story can be traced. One is that in the Mamertine Prison, said to have 
been called forth for the baptism of St. Peter's jailer, though really 
existing there in the days of the Roman Republic. The other is the 
Zemzem at Mecca, commonly believed to have been the well of Ish- 
mael, although it is known to have been really dug by Abd-ul-Motallib. 
(Sprenger's Mahomet, pp. 31, 54.) 
1 Hasted, iv. 428. 

18 



274 THE PILGRIMS' SIGNS. 

derived from a place of this very kind, taivdry, — that 
is, like the lace or chains of silk called " Etheldred's 
Chains,"^ sold at the fair of Saint Awdrey,^ or Ethel- 
dreda, the patron saint of the Isle of Ely. But what 
they chiefly looked for were "signs," to indicate where 
they had been. 

" As manner and custom is, signs there they bought, 
For men of contre to know whom they had sought. 
Each man set his silver in sucli thing as they liked." ■* 

These signs they fastened on their caps or hats, or 
hung from their necks, and thus were henceforth dis- 
tinguished. As the pilgrims from Compostela brought 
home the scallop-shells, which still lie on the seashores 
of Gallicia ; as the " palmers " from Palestine brought 
the palm-branches still given at the Easter pilgrimage, 
in the tin cases which, slung behind the mules or 
horses, glitter in long succession through the caval- 
cade as it returns from Jerusalem to Jaffa ; as the 
roamers from Rome brought models of Saint Peter's keys, 
or a " vernicle," that is, a pattern of Veronica's handker- 
chief, sewed on their caps, — so the Canterbury pilgrim 
had his hat thick set with a " hundred ampulles," or 
with leaden brooches representing the mitred head of 
the saint, with the inscription Ccqnd Tliomcc^ Many 

^ Porter's Flowers of the Saints : Harpsfield, vii. 24, quoted In' 
Fuller, book ii § 110. 

2 So Tooley for Saint Olave, Trowel for Saint Rule, Tanton for Saint 
Antony, Theunen for Saint Eunen, or Adamnan (Reeves's Adamnan, 
256), Tith for Saint Eth, Stoosey for Saint Osyth, Ickleij for Saint Echel, 
Torrey for Saint Oragh, Toll for Aldate. See Caley's Life, i. 272. 

* Supplementary Tale, 194. 

* See Piers Ploughman and Giraldus, as quoted by Nichols, p. 70, 
who overlooks the fact that the " amjjullre " were Canterbury signs. 
See C. R. Smith's Collect. Ant., i. 81, li 43; Journal of tlie Archae- 
ological Association, i. 200, Some of the brooches may be seen in 
the British Museum. 



THE DINNER. -THE TOWN. 275 

of these are said to have been found in the beds of the 
Stour and the Thames, dropped as the vast concourse 
departed from Canterbury or reached London. 

At last, after all these sights and purchases, came 
the dinner, " at noon." 

" Every man in his degree took his seat, 
As they were wont to do at supper and at meat." ^ 

The remains of the vast cellars under the Chequers Inn 
still bear witness to the amount of good cheer which 
could be provided. 

After the repast they all dispersed to see the town. 

"AH that had their changes with them 
They made them fresh and gay ; " 

and 

" They sorted them tog-ether, 
As they were more used travelling by the way." 

The knight 

" With his menee went to see the wall 
And the wards of the town, as to a knight befall," — 

the walls of Simon of Sudbury, which still in great part 
exist round the city, — 

" Devising attentively the strength all about, 
And pointed to his son both the perill and the dout, 
For shot of arldast and of bow, and eke for shot of gun, 
Unto the wards of the town, and how it might be won."^ 

The monk of the party took his clerical friends to 

see an acquaintance 

" that all these years three, 
Hath prayed him by his letters that I would him see." ^ 

The wife of Bath induced the Prioress to walk into 
the garden, or " herbary," 

1 Supplementary Tale, 230-240. 2 Jbid., 194. 

3 Ibid., 270. 



276 THE RETURN. 

" to see the herbs grow, 
And all the alleys fair ami pavid and raylid, and y-makid, 
The savige and the ysope y-fretted and y-stakid, 
And other beddis by and by fresh y-dight, 
For comers to the host, right a sportful sight." ^ 

Such were the ordinary amusements of the better 
class of Canterbury pilgrims. The rest are described as 
employing themselves in a less creditable manner. 

On the morrow they all start once again for London, 
and the stories on the road are resumed. At Dartford, 
both on going and returning, they laid in a stock of 
pilgrims' signs.^ The foreign pilgrims sleep at Roches- 
ter ; and it is curious to note that the recollections of 
Canterbury have so strong a hold on tlieir minds that 
the first object which they visit on their arrival in Lon- 
don is the Chaj^el of St. Thomas,^ — the old chapel built 
over the place of his birth, and the graves of his parents, 
Gilbert and Matilda. 

Besides the mass of ordinary pilgrims, there were 
those who came from the very highest ranks of life. 
Probably there was no king, from the second to the 
eighth Henry, who did not at some time of his life 
think it a matter of duty or of policy to visit the 
Shrine of St. Thomas. Before the period of the Trans- 
lation, we have already seen the visits of Louis VII. 
of France, and Richard and John of England. After- 
wards we have express records of Isabella,^ Queen of 
Edward II., of Edward I., and of John, the captive 

^ Supplementary Tale, 290. This last expression seems to imply that 
the herbary was in the garden of the inn. A tradition of such a garden 
still exists in the tenements on the northwest side of Mercery Lane. 

- Dunkin's History of Dartford. ^ ggg Note B. 

* Archtcologia, xxxvi. 461. She was four days on the read, and 
made offerings at the tomh, the Ixead, and the sword. Mary, daughter 
of Edward I., accompanied her. (Green's Princesses of England, 
vol. ii.) 



EDWAliD I. — JOHN OF FRANCE. 277 

king of France. Edward I., in the close of his reign 
(1299), offered to the shrine no less a gift than the 
golden crown of Scotland ; ^ and in the same year he 
celebrated, in the Transept of the Martyrdom, his mar- 
riage with his second wife, Margaret.^ John of France 
was at Canterbury perhaps on his arrival, certainly on 
his return from his captivity.^ The last acts of his 
exile were to drop an alms of ten crowns into the 
hands of the nuns of Harbledown, to offer ten nobles 
at the three sacred places of the cathedral, and to carry 
off, as a reminiscence from the Mercery stalls, a knife 
for the Count of Auxerre. A Sunday's ride brought 
him to Dover ; and thence, after a dinner with the 
Black Prince in Dover Castle, he once more embarked 
for his native country. Henry V., on his return from 
Agincourt, visited both the cathedral and St. Augus- 
tine's, and " offered at the Shrine of St. Thomas." Em- 
manuel, the Emperor of the East, paid his visit to 
Canterbury in 1400 ; Sigismund, the Emperor of the 
West, in 1417. Distinguished members of the great 
Scottish families also came, from far over the Border ; 
and special licenses and safe-conducts were granted to 
the Bruces, and to the Abbot of Melrose,* to enable 
them to perform their journeys securely through those 
troubled times. The great barons of the Cinque Ports, 
too, came here after every coronation, to present the 
canopies of silk and gold which they held, and still 
hold, on such occasions over our kings and queens, and 
which they receive as their perquisites.^ 

We have seen the rise of the Shrine of St. Thomas ; 

^ See Hasted, iv. .514. It was tlie crown fjiven to Edward by John 
Baliol, and carried off by Baliol on his escape. When he was recap- 
tured at Dover, the crown was sent to Canterbury. 

- See Note A. 3 See Note E. 

•i Hasted, iv. 514. 5 i^id. 



278 REACTION AGAINST PILGRIMAGE. 

we now come to its decline. From the very begin- 
ning of its glory, there had been contained within it 
the seeds of its own destruction. Whatever there may 
have been of courage or nobleness in Becket's life and 
death, no impartial person can now doubt that the ages 
which followed regarded his character and work with 
a reverence exaggerated beyond all reasonable bounds. 
And whatever feelings of true religion were interwoven 
with the devotion of those who came over land and sea 
to worship at his shrine, it is impossible to overlook the 
groundless superstition with which it was inseparably 
mingled, or the evil results, social and moral, to which 
the pilgrimage gave birth. Even in the first begin- 
nings of this localization of religion, there were purer 
and loftier spirits (such as Thomas a Kempis ^ in Ger- 
many) who doubted its efficacy ; and in the fourteenth 
century, when it reached its height, a strong reaction 
against it had already begun in the popular feeling of 
Englishmen. Chaucer's narrative leads us to infer, and 
the complaints of contemporary writers, like Piers 
Ploughman and William Thorpe, prove beyond doubt, 
that the levity, the idleness, the dissoluteness,^ pro- 
duced by these promiscuous pilgrimages, provoked that 
sense of just indignation which was one of the most ani- 
mating motives of tlie Lollards, and was one of the first 
causes which directly prepared the way for the Refor- 
mation. Even the treasures of the cathedral and of 
St. Augustine were not deemed quite secure ; and the 
Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, in the reign of Rich- 
ard II., advised that they should be moved "for more 
safety " to Dover Castle,'^ — just as, in the wars of the 

1 " There are few whom sickness really amends, as there are few 
whom pilcjrimage real!// sauctijies." — Imifafio Chrisfi, i. 2.3, 4. 

2 See the very instructive quotations in Nichols's Erasmus, pp. 
182-189. 3 Lambard's Kent, p. 293. 



1370.] SIMON OF SUDBURY. 279 

Palatinate, the Holy Coat of Treves was for many years 
shut up in the fortress of Ehrenbreitstein. 

Nor was it only persons of humble life and narrow 
minds that perceived these evils and protested against 
them. In the year of the fourth Jubilee, 1370, the 
pilgrims were crowding as usual along the great Lon- 
don road to Canterbury, when they were overtaken by 
Simon of Sudbury, at that time Bishop of London, but 
afterwards Primate, and well known for his munificent 
donations to the walls and towers of the town of Can- 
terbury. He was a bold and vigorous prelate ; his 
spirit was stirred within him at the sight of what he 
deemed a mischievous superstition, and he openly told 
them that the plenary indulgence which they hoped 
to gain by their visit to the holy city would be of no 
avail to them. Such a doctrine from such an author- 
ity fell like a thunderbolt in the midst of the vast 
multitude. Many were struck dumb ; others lifted up 
their voices and cursed him to his face, with the char- 
acteristic prayer that he might meet with a shameful 
death. One especially, a Kentish gentleman, — by 
name, Thomas of Aldon, — rode straight up to him, in 
towering indignation, and said : " My Lord Bishop, for 
this act of yours, stirring the people to sedition against 
Saint Thomas, I stake the salvation of my soul that 
you will close your life by a most terrible death," to 
which the vast concourse answered, " Amen, Amen." 
The curse, it was believed, prevailed. The " vox fojp- 
v.li" so the chronicler expressly asserts, turned out to 
be the "vox Dei." "From the beginning of the world 
it never has been heard that any one ever injured the 
Cathedral of Canterbury, and was not punished by the 
Lord." ^ Eleven years from that time, the populace of 
1 Birchingtou's Auuals ; Wharton's Aiiglia Sacra, ii. 51. 



280 ERASMUS AND COLET. [1512. 

London not unnatnrally imagined that the rights of 
Saint Thomas were avenged, when they saw the un- 
fortunate Primate dragged out of the Tower and be- 
headed by tlie Kentish rebels under Wat Tyler. His 
head was taken to his native place, Sudbury, where it 
is still preserved. His body was buried in the tomb, 
still to be seen on the south side of the choir of the 
cathedral, where not many years ago, when it was 
accidentally opened, the body was seen within, wrapped 
ill cerecloth, the vacant space of the head occupied by 
a leaden ball. 

But Sudbury was right, after all ; and the end was 
not far off. Wycliffe had already lifted up his voice, 
and the memory of Saint Thomas of Canterbury was 
one of the ancient forms which began to totter before 
him. It was said, whetlier truly or not, that in the 
last week of his life — on the 29th of October, 1384 — 
lie was going to preach at Lutterworth against the 
great saint, whose martyrdom was on that day com- 
memorated. A stroke of paralysis interrupted, as it 
was believed, the daring words ; but both to those who 
condemned and those who applauded his supposed 
intention, it must have appeared ominous of the fut- 
ure. Another century elapsed ; and now, between the 
years 1511 and 15 13,^ we find within the precincts of 
the cathedral two illustrious strangers, for whose com- 
ing, in their different ways, both Chaucer and Wycliffe 
had prepared the way. The one was John Colet,^ first 
scholar of his time in England, Dean of St. Paul's 
Cathedral, and founder of St. Paul's Grammar School. 
The other was the foreigner Erasmus, the patriarch of 

1 The date is fixed by the events of Emsmus's life (see Nichols, p. viii). 
" For the proof that " Pallus " iu Erasmus's Colloquy was Colet, see 
Nichols, pp. 126, 127. 



The Cathedral, Exterior. 



1512.] EKASMUS AND COLET. 281 

the learning and scholarship of Europe, then just re- 
viving from the slumber of a thousand years. They 
had made the journey from London together ; they had 
descended the well-known hill, and gazed with admi- 
ration on the well-known view. Long afterwards, in 
the mind of Erasmus, lived the recollection of " the 
majesty with which the church rises into the sky, so 
as to strike awe even at a distant approach ; the vast 
towers,^ saluting from far the advancing traveller ; the 
sound of the bells, sounding far and wide through the 
surrounding country." They were led the usual round 
of the sights of pilgrims. They speculated on the 
figures of the murderers over the south porch ; they 
entered the nave, then, as now, open to all comers, and 
were struck by its "spacious majesty," then compara- 
tively new from the works of Prior Chillenden. The 
curious eye of Erasmus passed heedlessly over the 
shrine^ of Archbishop Wittlesey, but fixed on the books 
fastened to the columns, and noted, with his caustic 
humor, that amongst them was a copy of the apocryphal 
Gospel of Nicodemus. They were taken to the Chapel 
of the Martyrdom, and reverently kissed the rusty 
sword ; and then, in long succession, as already de- 
scribed, were exhibited to them the wonders of the 
crypt, the choir, the sacristy, and the shrine. Their 
acquaintance with Warham, the gentle and learned 
Primate, secured their admission even to the less ac- 
cessible regions of the crypt and sacristy. The Prior 
who received them at the shrine was Goldstone, — the 
last great benefactor to the cathedral, who had just 
built the Christ Church gate and the central tower.^ 

1 He says "two," probably not seeing the low northwest Norman 
tower now destroyed. 

2 " Sepulcrum uescio cnjus " ^ Hasted, iv. 556. 



282 ERASMUS AND COLET. [1512. 

Erasmus saw enough to find out not only that he was 
a pious and sensible man, but that he was well ac- 
quainted with the philosophy — now trembling to its 
ruin — of Duns Scotus and the schoolmen. Even if 
no record were left, it would have been impossible not 
to inquire and to imagine with deep interest what im- 
pression was produced by these various objects, at this 
critical moment of their history, on two such men as 
Colet and Erasmus. We are not left to conjecture. 
Every line of the narrative, dry and cautious as it is, 
marks the feelings awakened in their hearts. The 
beauty of the edifice, as we have seen, touched them 
deeply. But when they come to the details of the 
sight, two trains of thought are let loose which carry 
away every other consideration. First, the vast display 
of wealth, which in former ages would have seemed 
the natural accompaniment of so sacred a spot, awakens 
in the mind of Erasmus only a sense of incongruity 
and disproportion. He dwells with pleasure on the 
" wooden altar " of the " martyrdom," as " a monument 
of antiquity, rebuking the luxury of this age ; " he 
gladly kisses the " rough cloak " and " napkin " of 
Becket, as " memorials of the simplicity of ancient 
times." But the splendid stores of the treasury, " be- 
fore which JNIidas or Croesus would have seemed beg- 
gars," rouse only the regret — the sacrilegious regret, 
as he confesses, for which he begged pardon of the 
saint before he left the church — that none of these 
gifts adorned his own homely mansion. His friend 
took, as was his wont, a more serious view of the mat- 
ter ; and as they were standing before the gilded head 
in Becket's Crown, broke in with the unseasonable sug- 
gestion that if Saint Thomas had been devoted to the 
poor in his lifetime, and was now unchanged, unless 



1512] ERASMUS AND COLET. 283 

for the better, he would far rather prefer that some 
portion of this vast treasure should be expended on 
the same objects now. The verger knit his brows, 
scowled, pouted, and, but for Warham's letter of intro- 
duction, would have turned them out of the church. 
Erasmus, as usual, took the milder side : hinted that it 
was but his friend's playful way, and dropped a few 
coins into the verger's hand for the support of the edi- 
fice. But he was not the less convinced of the sub- 
stantial truth of the good Dean's complaint. On the 
next point there was more difference between them. 
The natural timidity of Erasmus led him to shrink 
from an open attack on so widespread a feeling as 
the worship of relics. Colet had no such scruple ; and 
the objects of reverence which had held enthralled the 
powerful minds of Henry Plantagenet and of Stephen 
Langton excited in the devout and earnest mind of the 
theologian of the sixteenth century sentiments only of 
disgust and contempt. When the long array of bones 
and skulls was produced, he took no pains to disguise 
his impatience ; he refused the accustomed kiss due to 
the arm of Saint George; and when the kind Prior 
offered one of the filthy rags torn from one of the 
saint's robes, as a choice present, he held it up between 
his fingers, and laid it down with a whistle of con- 
tempt, which distracted Erasmus between shame for 
his companion's bad manners and a fear for the conse- 
quences. But the Prior pretended not to see ; perhaps 
such expressions were now not so rare as in the days 
of Sudbury. At any rate, the courtesy of his high office 
prevailed ; and with a parting cup of wine, he bade 
them farewell. 

There was to be yet one more trial of Erasmus's 
patience. They were to return to London. Two miles 



284 SCENE AT HARBLEDOWN. [1512. 

from Canterbury, they found themselves in a steep 
descent through a steep and narrow lane, with high 
banks on either side ; on the left rose an ancient alms- 
house. We recognize at once, without a word, the old 
familiar lazar-house of Harbledown, so often mentioned 
in these pages, so picturesque even now in its decay, 
and in spite of the modern alterations, which have 
swept away almost all but the ivy-clad chapel of Lan- 
franc ; the road, still steep, though probably wider than 
at that time ; the rude steps leading from the doorway, 
under the shade of two venerable yews, — one a lifeless 
trunk, the other still stretching its dark branches over 
the porch. Down those steps came, according to his 
wont, an aged almsman ; and as the two horsemen 
approached, he threw his accustomed shower of holy 
water, and then pressed forward, holding the upper 
leather of a shoe, bound in a brass rim, with a crystal 
set in the centre. Colet was the left-hand horseman 
thus confronted. He bore the shower of holy water 
with tolerable equanimity ; but when the shoe was 
offered for him to kiss, he sharply asked the old man 
what he wanted. " The shoe of Saint Thomas," was 
the answer. Colet's anger broke all bounds. Turning 
to his companion, "What!" he said; "do these asses 
expect us to kiss the shoes of all good men that have 
ever lived ? Why, they might as well bring us their 
spittle or their dung to be kissed ! " The kind heart of 
Erasmus was moved for the old almsman ; he dropped 
into his hand a small coin, and the two travellers pur- 
sued their journey to the metropolis. Three hundred 
years have passed, but the natural features of the scene 
remain almost unchanged ; even its minuter memorials 
are not wanting. In the old chest of the almshouse 
still remain two relics, which no reader of this story 



1512.] SCENE AT HARBLEDOWN. 285 

can see without interest. The one is an ancient maple 
bowl, bound with a brazen rim, which contains a piece 
of rock crystal, so exactly reminding us of that which 
Erasmus describes in the leather of Saint Thomas's 
shoe, as to suggest the conjecture that when the shoe 
was lost the crystal was thus preserved. The other is 
a rude box, with a cliain to be held by the hand, and 
a slit for money in the lid, at least as old as the six- 
teenth century. In that box, we can hardly doubt, the 
coin of Erasmus was deposited. 

Trivial as these reminiscences may be, they are not 
without importance, when they bring before us an inci- 
dent so deeply illustrative of the characters and for- 
tunes of the two pilgrims who thus passed onwards, 
soon to part and meet no more, but not soon to lose 
their influence on the world in which they lived : Colet, 
burning with his honest English indignation against a 
system of which the overthrow, though not before his 
eyes were closed in death, was near at hand ; Erasmus, 
sharing his views, yet naturally chafing against the 
vehemence of Colet, as he afterwards chafed against 
the mightier vehemence of Luther, — shrinking from the 
shock to the feelings of the old almsman of Harble- 
down, as he afterwards shrank from any violent col- 
lision with the ancient churches of Christendom. In 
the meeting of that old man with the two strangers in 
the lane at Harbledown, how completely do we read, 
in miniature, the whole history of the coming revolution 
of Europe ! 

Still, however, with that strange unconsciousness of 
coming events which often precedes the overthrow of 
the greatest of institutions, the tide of pilgrimage and 
the pomp of the cathedral continued apparently un- 
abated almost to the very moment of the final crash. 



286 VISIT OF HENRY VIII. AND CHARLES V. 1512.] 

Almost at the very time of Erasmus's visit, the offer- 
ings at the shrine still averaged between £800 or 
£1000 — that is, in our money, at least £4000 — a year.^ 
Henry VII. had in his will left a kneeling likeness of 
himself, in silver gilt, to be " set before Saint Thomas 
of Canterbury, and as nigh to the Shrine of St. Thomas 
as may well be." Prior Goldstone, who had shown 
Erasmus and Colet the wonders of the shrine, had 
erected its noble central tower, and the stately entrance 
to the precincts. The completion of Becket's Crown 
was in contemplation. A faint murmur from a solitary 
heretic against the character of Becket was, even as 
late as 1532, enumerated amongst the crimes which 
brought James Bainham to the stake.^ Great anxiety 
was still expressed for the usual privileges and indul- 
gences, on the last Jubilee in 1520 ; it was still pleaded 
at Eome that since the death of Saint Peter there was 
never a man that did more for the liberties of the 
church than Saint Thomas of Canterbury.^ Henry 
VIIL, in that same year, had received the Emperor 
Charles V. at Canterbury, immediately before the meet- 
ing of the Cloth of Gold. They rode together from 
Dover, on the morning of Whitsunday, and entered the 
city through St. George's Gate. Under the same can- 
opy were seen both the youthful sovereigns. Cardinal 
Wolsey was directly in front ; on the right and left 
were the proud nobles of Spain and England ; the 
streets were lined with clergy, all in full ecclesiastical 

1 Nichols's Erasmus, p. 110, quotes Cardinal INTorton's Appeal. 
There is a similar passage often quoted from Somuer's Canterbury, 
p. 125. 

- " He affirmed Archbishop Becket was a murderer, and if he did 
not repent his murder, he was rather a devil in hell than a saint in 
heaven." — Collier, part ii. book i. 

3 Appendix to Battely's Canterbury, no. 6, xxi. 



1520.] THE REFORMATION. 287 

costume. They lighted off their horses at the west 
door of the cathedral. Warham was there to receive 
them ; together they said their devotions, — doubtless 
before the shrine.^ So magnificent a meeting had 
probably never been assembled there, nor such an en- 
tertainment given, as Warham afterwards furnished at 
his palace, since the days of Langton. We would fain 
ask what the Emperor, fresh from Luther, thought of 
this, — the limit of his tour in England ; or how Henry 
did the honors of the cathedral, of which, but for his 
elder brother's death, he was destined to have been the 
Primate. But the chronicles tell us only of the out- 
ward show ; regardless of the . inevitable doom which, 
year by year, was drawing nearer and nearer. 

Events moved on. The queen, who had greeted^ her 
imperial nejDhew with such warmth at Canterbury, was 
now divorced. In 1534 the royal supremacy, and sep- 
aration from the See of Eome, was formally declared. 
The visitation of the monasteries began in 1535. The 
lesser monasteries were suppressed in 1536. For a 
short space the greater monasteries with their gorgeous 
shrines and rituals still remained erect. In the close 
of 1536 was struck the first remote blow at the wor- 
ship of Saint Thomas. Royal injunctions were issued, 
abrogating all superfluous holidays which fell in term- 
time or in the time of harvest : ^ the Festival of the 
Martyrdom on the 29th of December escaped ; but the 
far greater Festival of the Translation of the Eelics, 
falling as it did in the season of harvest, which ex- 
tended from the 1st of July to the 29th of December, 

1 Battely ; Somiier, part ii. App. no. x. ; Holinshed, 1520. 

■^ Holinshed, 1520. 

3 The prohibition included especially the festivals of Saint Thomas 
(July 6), Saint Lawrence (August 10), and the Holy Cross (September 
U). (Auuals of an Augustine Monk, Harleian MSS., 419, fol. 122.) 



288 CRANMER'S BANQUET. [1537. 

was thus swept away. The vast concourse of pilgrims 
or idlers from the humble classes, who had hitherto 
crowded the Canterbury roads, were now for the first 
time detained in their usual occupations ; those from 
the higher classes were still free to go. But one signi- 
ficant circumstance showed what was to be expected 
from them. 

Ever since the Festival of the Translation had been 
established, its eve, or vigil, — that is, the Gth of July, 
— had been observed as a day of great solemnity. A 
touching proof of the feeling with which it was re- 
garded is preserved in the very year preceding that in 
which its observance was prohibited. " I should be 
sorry," wrote Sir Thomas More, on the day before his 
death, — the 5th of July, 1535, — "that it should be 
any longer than to-morrow ; for it is Saint Thomas's Eve 
and the Octave of Saint Peter, and therefore to-morrow 
beg I to go to God. It were a meet day and very con- 
venient for me." ^ By the Primates of the English 
Church, this day had been always rigidly kept as a 
fast : the usual festivities in the palace at Canterbury 
or Lambeth, as the case may be, had always been sus- 
pended ; the poor who usually came to the gates to be 
fed came not ; the fragments of meat which the vast 
retinue of domestics gathered from the tables of the 
spacious hall, were withheld. But Archbishop Cran- 
mer determined to carry out the royal injunctions 
thoroughly. In a letter written to Thomas Cromwell, 
from Ford, in the August of this year (1537), — for the 
most part by his secretary, — he had with his own hand 
inserted a strong remonstrance against the inconsis- 
tency of the royal practice and profession : " But, my 
Lord, if in the court you do keep such holidays and 

1 Wordswortli's Ecclesiastical Hiography, ii. 217. 



1538.] TRIAL OF BECKET. 289 

fasting-days as be abrogated, when shall we persuade 
the people to cease from keeping of them ? for the 
king's own house shall be an example to all the realm 
to break his own ordinances." ^ He was determined, at 
any rate, that " the Archbishop's own house " should 
on this, the most important of all the abrogated days, 
set a fitting precedent of obedience to the new law. 
On that eve, for the first time for more than three hun- 
dred years, the table was spread as usual in the palace- 
hall ^ for the officers of his household, with the large 
hospitality then required by custom as almost the first 
duty of the Primate. And then the Archbishop " ate 
flesh " on the Eve of Saint Thomas, and " did sup in his 
hall with his family," — as the monk of St. Augustine's 
Abbey, who relates the incident, dryly observes, " which 
was never seen before in all time." ^ 

In the course of the next year (1538), whilst the 
Archbishop was making the " exposition of the Epistle 
of Saint Paul to the Hebrews half the Lent in the Chap- 
ter-house of the monastery,"'^ the fatal blow gradually 
descended. The names of many of the saints whose 
festivals had been discontinued, remained and still re- 
main in the English calendar. But Becket's memory 
was open to a more grievous charge than that of hav- 
ing given birth to idleness and superstition. We must 
remember that the mind of the king, and, with a few 
exceptions, of the government, of the hierarchy, of the 
nation itself, was possessed with one master idea, — 
that of establishing the supremacy of the Crown over 
all causes, ecclesiastical as well as civil, within the 

1 Strype's Cranmer, Appendix, no. xix. 2 Ihjj.^ p. le. 

3 Annals of an Augustine Monk, Harleian MSS., 419, i'ol. 112. It 
is somewhat inaccurately quoted by Strype. 
1 Ibid. 

19 



290 TRIAL OF BECKET. [1538. 

dominions of England. It has now in practice been 
interwoven with all our institutions ; it has in theory- 
been defended and adopted by some of our ablest 
statesmen, divhies, and philosophers : however liable 
to be perverted to worldly or tyrannical purposes, there 
is a point of view from which it has been justly re- 
garded as the largest and noblest opportunity which 
outward institutions can furnish for the realization of 
the kingdom of God upon earth. But, be it right or 
wrong, it was then held in England to be the one great 
question of the time; and to this doctrine it is not 
surprising that the story of Becket's career should have 
seemed to contain a direct contradiction. Doubtless, 
philosophical historians might have drawn distinctions 
between the times of the second and the eighth Henry, 
— might have shown that the truths and feelings rep- 
resented by the civil and ecclesiastical powers at these 
two epochs were widely different. But in that age of 
indiscriminating partisanship, of half-formed knowl- 
edge, of passionate impulses, such a view of past events 
could not be found. Even King John, whom we now 
justly account one of the worst of men, was exalted 
into a hero, as striving, though in vain, to resist the 
encroachments of the Papacy. The recent memory of 
the two great opponents of the new doctrine. More and 
Fisher, whose virtues every party now acknowledges, 
was then set aside with the summary question, "Should 
the King's highness have suffered those traitors to live, 
Thomas More ' the jester,' and Fisher the ' glorious 
hypocrite ' ? " -^ It is necessary to enter into these feel- 
ings to understand in any degree the events which 
followed. 

1 Declaratiou of Faith, 1539. (Collier's Ecc. Hist , vol. ii. Appendix, 
no xlvii.) 



1538 ] TRIAL OF BECKET. 291 

On the 24th of April, 1538 (such, at any rate, was 
the story reported all over the continent of Europe), a 
summons was addressed in the name of King Henry 
VIII., " to thee, Thomas Becket, sometime Archbishop 
of Canterbury," charging him with treason, contumacy, 
and rebellion. It was read within the walls of the ca- 
thedral, by the side of the shrine : thirty days were 
allowed for his appearance ; and when at the expira- 
tion of that period the canopy and ark and iron chest 
remained unmoved, and the dead man had not risen 
to answer for himself, the case was formally argued at 
Westminster by the Attorney-General on the part of 
Henry II., on the part of the accused by an advocate 
granted at the public expense by the king. The ar- 
guments of the Attorney-General prevailed ; and on 
the loth of June sentence was pronounced against 
the Archbishop', — that his bones should be publicly 
burned, to admonish the living of their duty by the 
punishment of the dead ; and that the offerings made at 
the shrine should be forfeited to the Crown.^ 

1 The grounds for doubting this story, as related by Sanders, 
Polliui, and by Pope Paul III. (Wilkins's Concilia, ii. 835), are given 
in Nichols's Erasmus, p. 233 ; Froude's History of England, lii. 
301: (1) The shrine was not destroyed in August, as Polliui states ; 
(2) The Narrative of Thomas (see Note C), as well as the Declaration 
of Faith, 1539, suggests a doubt whether any of the bones, except the 
head, were burned (see Jenkyns's Cranmer, i. 262) ; (3) It is not men- 
tioned in any contemporary English authority, and especially not in 
the long and close correspondence at the very time, between Cromwell 
and Prior Goldwell ; (4) Tiie summons is dated " London," whereas 
ofhcial papers are never dated from London, but from Westminster, 
Whitehall; (5) Henry is called "Rex Hibernias." This was in 1538; 
he did not take the title till 1541. On the other hand, may be noticed, 
as slight confirmation of the general truth of the story: (1) The lan- 
guage of the Proclamation of 1538, " Forasmuch as it now appeareth 
clearly;" (2) The Declaration of 1539, "By approbation it appeareth 
clearly •, " (3) The Life of Sir Thomas More published in Wordsworth's 
Ecclesiastical Biography, ii. 226, " We have made him, after so many 
hundred years, a traitor to the king." 



292 TRIAL OF BECKET. [1538- 

Such, at least, was the belief ft Eome ; and though 
the story has of late years been doubted, there is nothing 
in it which is of itself incredible. It would, if true, be 
but one instance of the strange union of violent self- 
will with rigid adherence to law, which characterizes 
all the Tudor family, but especially Henry VIII. It 
would be but an instance of the same scrupulous casuis- 
try which suggested the fancied violation of a Levitical 
ordinance as an occasion for annulling his marriage with 
Catherine, and which induced him to adopt in the case 
of his three subsequent wives none but strictly legal 
remedies. It will be but an instance of the way in 
which every act of that reign was performed in due 
course of law ; and thus, as if, by a Providence working 
good out of evil, all the stages of the Eeformation re- 
ceived all the sanction which the combined will of the 
sovereign and the nation could give them. And it must 
be remembered that in this process there was nothing 
contrary to the forms of the Eoman Catholic faith, 
which Henry still professed.^ However absurd to us 
may seem the citation of a dead man from his grave, 
and the burning his bones to ashes because he does not 
appear, it was the exact copy of what had been before 
enacted in the case of Wycliffe at Lutterworth, and of 
what was shortly afterwards enacted by Queen Mary 
in the case of Bucer and Fagius at Cambridge. But 
whatever might be the precise mode in which the 
intentions of Henry and Cranmer were expressed, a 
royal commission was duly issued for their execution. 

1 This is speciallv put forward iu his defence iu the Declaration of 
Faith ( 1 .559 ) . " The King's Highness Iiath never put any man to death 
but by ordinary process . . . who can find in his heart, knowing this, 
to think the same prince that so hath judgment ministered by tlie law, 
to be a tyrant 1" — Collier's EccL Hist., ii. Appendix, no. xlii. 



1538.] VISIT OF MADAME DE MONTREUIL. 293 

One more visit is recorded in this strange interval 
of suspense. In August the shrine was still standing. 
On the last day of that month, 1538, a great French 
lady passed through Canterbury, Madame de Montreuil, 
who had just been attending Mary of Guise to Scotland. 
!She was taken to see the wonders of the place, and 
" marvelled at the great riches thereof," and said " that 
if she had not seen it, all the men in the world could 
never 'a' made her to believe it." But it was mere 
wonder ; the ancient spirit of devotion, which had com- 
pelled respect from Colet and Erasmus, had now no 
place. Cushions were set for her to kneel both at the 
" Shrine " and " Head ; " and thrice the Prior, opening 
" Saint Thomas' Head, offered her to kiss it, but she 
neither kneeled nor would kiss it, but still viewing the 
riches thereof. ... So she departed and went to her 
lodging to dinner, and after the same to entertain her 
with honest pastimes. And about 4 of the clock, the 
said Prior did send her a present of coneys, capons, 
chickens, with diverse fruits — plenty — insomuch that 
she said, ' What shall we do with so many capons ? Let 
the Lord Prior come and eat, and help us to eat them 
to-morrow at dinner,' and so thanked him heartily 
for the said present." ^ This was the last recorded 
present that the "Lord Prior" of Canterbury gave, 
and the last recorded pilgrim who saw the Shrine of 
St. Thomas. 

In the course of the next month ^ the Royal Com- 
mission for the destruction of shrines, under Dr. 
Leyton, arrived at Canterbury. Unfortunately every 
authentic record of the final catastrophe has perished ; 

1 State Papers, i. 583, 584. 

- Stow gives the proceedings under " September, 1538," which 
a'rrees with the date of Madame de Montreuil's visit. 



294 DESTRUCTION OF THE SHRINE. [1538. 

and the precise manner of the devastation is involved 
in obscurity and contradiction. Like all the acts of 
destruction at the Keformation, as distinct from those in 
the civil wars at a later period, it was probably carried 
out in the presence of the lioyal Commissioners with all 
formality and order. The jewels — so we may infer from 
the analogy of the like event at Durham — were first 
carefully picked out by a goldsmith in attendance, and 
then the iron chest of the shrine broken open with a 
sledge-hammer.^ The bones within ^ were either scat- 
tered to the winds, or, if interred, were mingled indiscri- 
minately with others ; in this respect sharing a different 
fate from that of most of the disinterred saints, who 
after the destruction of their shrines were buried with 
decency and care near the places where the shrines 
had stood.3 The reputed skull in the golden " Head " 
was treated as an imposture, from its being so much 
larger than the portion that was found in the shrine 
with the rest of the bones * and was burned to ashes 
as such. The jewels and gold of the shrine were car- 
ried off in two strong coffers, on the shoulders of seven 
or eidit men ; ^ for the removal of the rest of the 
spoils six and twenty carts are said to have waited 
at the church door.^ The jewels, no doubt, went 

1 See Raine's Durliam, p. 55. 

2 It was a dispute, afterwards, whether the bones had been burned 
or not ; the Roman Catholics maintaining tliat they had been, the Prot- 
estants vehemently denying it. This shows a certain consciousness on 
tlie part of the latter that there had been excessive violence used. See 
Declaration of Faith, 15.39 (in Nichols's Erasmus, 2.36 ; Collier, Appen- 
dix, no. xlvii.), and William Thomas, 1566, Note C). That they were 
buried, not burned, was likely from the unexceptionable testimony of the 
Life of Sir Thomas More, by Harpsfield, — " We have of late unshrined 
him, and buried his holy relics." ( Word.sworth's Eccl. Biog , ii. 226 ) 

3 See Raine's Durham, p. 56. * Declaration of Faith, 1539. 

5 Stow's Annals, 1538. 

6 Sanders in Wilkins's Concilia, iii. 836. 



1538.] PROCLAMATION. 295 

into the royal stores ; the " Eegale of France," the glory 
of the shrine, was long worn by Henry hmiself in the 
ring^ which after the manner of those times encircled 
his enormous thumb ; the last time '^ that it appears 
in history is among the "diamonds" of the golden 
" collar " of his daughter Queen Mary.^ The healing 
virtues of the well, it was observed, instantly dis- 
appeared. Cranmer, on the 18th of August, had al- 
ready applied * for a Eoyal Commission to be issued 
to his two chaplains, Dr. Lee and Dr. Barbour, for the 
examination of the blood of Saint Thomas, which he 
suspected to be red ochre. Finally, a proclamation 
was issued on the 16th of November, setting forth the 
cause and mode of Becket's death, in a statement which 
displays considerable ability, by fixing on those points 
in the ancient narratives which unquestionably reveal 
the violent temper and language of the so-called Mar- 
tyr.^ " For these, and for other great and urgent 
reasons, long to recite, the King's Majesty, by the ad- 
vice of his council, hath thought expedient to declare 
to his loving subjects, that notwithstanding the said 

1 Such a ring may be seeu on the thumb of the contemporary efBgy 
of Archbishop Warham. 

2 Many of the Crown jewels of England were given away in Spain 
(so I am informed by Mr. Ford) during the mission of Prince Charles 
and the Duke of Buckingham. 

3 Nichols's Erasmus, p. 224. 

■^ Jenkyns's Cranmer, i. 262. See also Note C. 

^ " His death, which they untruly called martyrdom, happened upon 
a rescue by him made; and that, as it is written, he gave opprobrious 
names to the gentlemen which then counselled him to leave his stub- 
bornness, and to avoid the commotion of the people risen up for that 
rescue. And he not only called one of them ' Bawde,' but also took 
Tracy by the bosom, and violently shook and plucked him, in such a 
manner as he had almost overthrown him to the pavement of the 
church ; so that upon this fray, one of their company, perceiving the 
same, struck him, and so in the throng Becket was slain." See Wil- 
kins's Concilia, iii. 848. 



296 PROSCRIPTION OF THE NAME. 

canonization, there appearetli nothing in his life and 
exterior conversation whereby he should be called a 
Saint; but rather esteemed a rebel and traitor to his 
prince. Therefore his Grace straitly chargeth and com- 
mandeth, that henceforth the said Thomas Becket shall 
not be esteemed, named, reputed, nor called a Saint, 
but * Bishop Becket,' and that his images and pictures 
throughout the whole realm shall be put down and 
avoided out of all churches and chapels, and other 
places ; and that from henceforth the days used to be 
festivals in his name shall not be observed, — nor the 
service, office, antiphonies, collects, and prayers in his 
name read, but rased and put out of all books." ^ 

Most rigidly was this proclamation carried out. Not 
more carefully is the name of Geta erased by his rival 
brother on every monument of the Eoman Empire, 
from Britain to Egypt, than that of the contumacious 
Primate by the triumphant king. Every statue and 
picture of the "Traitor" has been swept away: from 
almost every illuminated psalter, missal, and every copy 
of historical or legal document, the pen or the knife 
of the eraser has effaced the once honored name 
and figure of Saint Thomas wherever it occurs^ At 
Canterbury the arms of the city and cathedral were al- 
tered. Within the church some fragments of painted 
glass, and the defaced picture at the head of Henry 
IV.'s tomb are his only memorials. Even in the sec- 
ond year of Edward VI. the obnoxious name was still 
hunted down ; and Cranmer, in his " Articles of Visi- 
tation " for that year, inquires " whether they have put 
out of their church books the name and service of 

1 Wilkins's Concilia, iii. 848. 

2 See, amongst other instances, Capgrave's Chronicle, p. 141. " Saint 
Thomas " is erased, and " Kran " substituted. 



DESTRUCTION OF RELICS OF ANTIQUITY. 297 

Thomas Becket." The site of his original tomb in the 
crypt was, a few months after the fall of the shrine, an- 
nexed by an Order in Council to the house of the first 
canon of the newly erected Chapter, and was retained 
almost to our own time as his cellar for wine and 
fagots. So completely were the records of tlie shrine 
destroyed, that the cathedral archives throw hardly the 
slightest light either on its existence or its removal.^ 
And its site has remained, from that day to this, a 
vacant space, with the marks of the violence of the 
destruction even yet visible on the broken pavement. 

Eound it still lie the tombs of king and prince and 
archbishop ; the worn marks on the stones show the 
reverence of former ages. But the place itself is va- 
cant, and the lessons which that vacancy has to teach 
us must now take the place of the lessons of the ancient 
shrine. 

There are very few probably, at the present time, in 
whom, as they look round on the desolate pavement, 
the first feeling that arises is not one of disappointment 
and regret that a monument of past times so costly 
and curious should have been thus entirely obliterated 
There is probably no one who, if the shrine were now 
standing, would dream of removing it. One such tomb, 
as has been said, still remains in Westminster Abbey ; 
the very notion of destroying it would call out a general 
outcry from all educated men throughout the kingdom. 
Why is it that this feeling, so familiar and so natural 
to us, should then have been so completely overruled ? 
The answer to this question is doubly instructive. 
First, it reveals to us one great difference between our 
age and the time not only of the Keformation but of 
many preceding ages. In our time there has sprung 
1 See Note F., p. 326. 



298 DESTRUCTION OF RELICS OF ANTIQUITY. 

up, to a degree hitherto unprecedented, a love of what 
is old, of what is beautiful, of what is venerable, — a 
desire to cherish the memorials of the past, and to keep 
before our eyes the vestiges of times which are brought 
so vividly before us in no other way. It is, as it were, 
God's compensation to the world for its advancing 
years. Earlier ages care but little for these relics of 
antiquity ; one is swept away after another to make 
room for what is yet to come ; precious works of art, 
precious recollections, are trampled under foot ; the 
very abundance in which they exist seems to beget 
an indifference towards them. But in proportion as 
they become fewer and fewer, the affection for them 
grows stronger and stronger ; and the further we recede 
from the past, the more eager now seems our craving 
to attach ourselves to it by every link that remains. 
Such a feeling it is which most of us would entertain 
towards this ancient shrine, — such a feeling as in the 
mass of men hardly existed at the time of its destruc- 
tion. In this respect, at least, we are richer than were 
our fathers : other gifts they had, which we have not ; 
this gift of insight into the past, of loving it for its own 
sake, of retaining around us as much as we can of its 
grace and beauty, we have, as they had not. It is 
true that reverence for the dead ought never to stand in 
the way of the living, — that when any great evil is 
avoided, or any great good attained, by destroying old 
recollections, no historical or antiquarian tenderness can 
be pleaded for their preservation ; but where no such 
reason exists, let us keep them as best we can. And as 
we stand on the vacant space of Becket's Shrine, let us 
be thankful that we have retained what we have, and 
cherish it accordingly. 

It is impossible, however, to read the signs of 



NECESSITY FOP DESTRUCTION OF SHRINE. 299 

the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries without per- 
ceiving that the Shrine of St. Thomas fell not simply 
from a love of destruction or a desire of plunder, but 
before a sense of overwhelming necessity. Had the 
Eeformers been ever so anxious to retain it, they would 
probably have found it impossible to do so. However 
much the rapacity of Henry VIII. may have prompted 
him to appropriate the treasures to himself, and how- 
ever much we may lament the wholesale plunder of a 
fund which might have endowed great public institu- 
tions, yet the destruction of the shrine was justified on 
general reasons, and tho.se reasons commended them- 
selves to the common sense and feeling of the nation 
and the age. The mode in which it was destroyed may 
appear violent ; but it was the violence, partly char- 
acteristic of a barbarous and revolutionary epoch, partly 
such as always is produced by the long growth of some 
great abuse. A striking proof of this fact, which is also 
itself one of the most surprising parts of the whole 
transaction, is the apathy with which the clergy and 
the people acquiesced in the act of the government. 
When a similar destruction was effected in France, at 
the time of the great Eevolution, although the horrors 
perpetrated were even greater, yet there were loyal 
hands to save some relic at least from the general ruin • 
and when the Abbey of St. Denis was again opened 
after the Restoration, the ashes of the sovereigns, the 
fragments of the royal tombs, were still preserved 
sufficiently to fill again the vacant spaces. Yet of 
Becket's Shrine hardly a shred or particle has ever been 
traced ; the storm had long been gathering, yet it burst 
at last with hardly an effort to avert it, and the des- 
ecration was executed by officers, and sanctioned by 
ecclesiastics, who in name at least stiil belonjijed to the 



300 RELIC-WORSHIP. 

ancient faith. At Eome, indeed, it was made one of 
the special grounds of the bull of excommunication 
issued by the Pope in the December of that year. But 
in England hardly a murmur transpires. Only one com- 
plaint has reached our time : Cranmer wrote to Crom- 
well in the following year, to tell him that a drunken 
man had been heard to say ^ that " it was a pity and 
naughtily done to put down the Pope and Saint 
Thomas." Something of this silence may doubtless 
be ascribed to the reign of terror which more or less 
characterizes the administration of justice in the time 
of Henry VIII. But it cannot be so explained alto- 
gether. No Thomas More was found to die for Becket, 
as there had been for the Pope's supremacy. And 
during the iive years of the restored Roman Catholic 
Religion in the reign of Mary, although an order was 
issued by Cardinal Pole to restore the name of Saint 
Thomas to the missals from which it had been erased,^ 
yet no attempt was made to revive the pilgrimage to 
Canterbury ; and the queen herself, though usually 
eager for the restitution of the treasures which her 
father had taken from the churches and convents, did 
not scruple, as we have seen, to wear in her necklace 
the choicest jewel of the shrine. The account of 
Erasmus's visit, as already given, is in fact sufficient to 
show how completely the system of relic-worship and 
of pilgrimage had worked its own ruin, — how deep was 
the disgust which it awakened in the minds of intel- 
ligent men, unwilling though they might be to disturb 
the established forms of religion. By the time that the 
catastrophe was accomplished, Colet had already been 
laid to rest in the choir of St. Paul's; the tomb had 

1 Jenkyns's Cranmer, i 278. 

2 Strype's Craumer, Appendix, no. 81. 



CONCLUSION. 301 

already closed over Erasmus in his beloved retirement at 
Basle. But we cannot doubt that could they have lived 
to see the completion of the overthrow which their saga- 
cious minds clearly foresaw, as they knelt before the 
shrine a few years before, the one would have received 
the tidings with undisguised exultation, the other with 
a sigh indeed, yet with a full sense of the justice of the 
act. 

It is therefore a satisfaction, as we look on the broken 
pavement, to feel that, here as elsewhere, no great in- 
stitution perishes without good cause. Had Stephen 
Langton been asked which was most likely to endure, — 
the Magna Charta which he won from John, or the 
Shrine which five years afterwards he consecrated in 
the presence of Henry III., — he would, beyond all 
question, have said the Shrine of St. Thomas. But 
we see what he could not see, — we see that the Charter 
has lasted, because it was founded on the eternal laws 
of truth and justice and freedom : the Shrine has van- 
ished away, because it was founded on the passing 
opinion of the day; because it rested on ignorance, 
which was gradually dissolving ; because it was en- 
tangled with exaggerated superstitions, which were 
condemned by the wise and good even of those very 
times. But the vacant space is more than this : it is 
not only a sign of the violent convulsion through which 
the Keformation was effected ; but it is a sign also, if we 
could so take it, of what the Eeformation has effected 
for us, and what duties it has laid upon us. If one of 
the ancient pilgrims were to rise again, and look in vain 
for the object of his long devotion, he would think that 
we were men without religion.^ So, in like manner, 

^ A curious instance occurs in Bishop Doyle's Account of liis visit 
to Canterbury, iu 1828. " I beheld a lofty cloister and a mouldering 



302 CONCLUSION. 

when the Gentile conqueror entered the Holy of Holies 
and looked around, and saw that there was no graven 
image or likeness of anything on earth or in heaven, he 
marvelled at the " vacant sanctuary," ^ as of a worship 
without a God. Yet Pompey in the Temple of Jeru- 
salem and the ancient pilgrim in Canterbury Cathedral 
would be alike mistaken. It is true that a void has 
been created, — that the Eeformation often left, as here 
in the old sanctuary of the cathedral, so on a wider 
scale in the hearts of men, a vacancy and a coldness 
which it is useless to deny, though easy to explain 
and to a certain point defend. But this vacancy, this 
natural result of every great convulsion of the human 
mind, is one which it is our own fault if we do not fill 
up, in the only way in which it can be filled up, — not by 
rebuilding what the reformers justly destroyed, nor yet 
by disparaging the better qualities of the old saints and 
pilgrims, but by a higher worship of God, by a more 
faithful service of man, than was then thought possible. 
In proportion to our thankfulness that ancient super- 
stitions are destroyed, should be our anxiety that new 
light and increased zeal and more active goodness 
should take their place. Our pilgrimage cannot be 
Geoffrey Chaucer's, but it may be John Bunyan's. In 

■pile . . . which might bear on its porch the inscription ... to the 
Unknown God. It is a wide and spacious waste, cold and untenanted. 
It now had no altar, no sacrifice, no priesthood." And so easily does 
his imagination get the better of facts, that he proceeds ■ " The only 
symbol of Christianity not yet extinct which I discovered was a cliapel 
in the cloister, where the verger who accompanied me (for hire) ob- 
served that 'service Avas at certain times performed.' I cried out . . . 
' Where are the canons and the dignitaries ? . . . Where is the loud 
song or the sweet canticle of praise ? ' &c.. Sec." (Fitzpatrick's Doyle, 
ii. 90.) Probably Bishop Doyle's visit was paid to Canterbury whilst 
the cathedral was undergoing repairs, and the service was necessarily 
carried ou in the chapter-house. 

^ " Vacuam sedem, inania arcana." — Tacitus, Hist., v. 9. 



The Cathedral, South Side. 



CONCLUSION. 303 

that true " Pilgrim's Way " to a better country, we have 
all of us to toil over many a rugged hill, over many 
a dreary plain, by many opposite and devious paths, 
cheering one another by all means, grave and gay, till 
we see the distant towers. In that pilgrimage and 
progress towards all things good and wise and holy, 
Canterbury Cathedral, let us humbly trust, may still 
have a part to play. Although it is no longer the end in 
the long journey, it may still be a stage in our advance ; 
it may still enlighten, elevate, sanctify, those who come 
within its reach ; it may still, if it be true to its high 
purpose, win for itself, in the generations which are to 
come after us, a glory more humble but not less ex- 
cellent than when a hundred thousand worshippers lay 
prostrate before the shrine of its ancient hero. 



APPENDIX TO "THE SHRINE OF 
BECKET." 



NOTE A. 

[The following extracts are from a manuscript history of 
Canterbury Cathedral, in Norman French, entitled " Polis- 
toire," in the Harleian MSS. in the British Museum. My at- 
tention was called to this curious document by Mr. Bond, to 
whom I would here beg to express my thanks for his con- 
stant courtesy whenever I have had occasion to consult 
liim.] 

THE WELL OF ST. THOMAS. (See p. 272.) 
Had. MS. 636, /o^. 143 b, col. 1, line 6, ab imd. 

(1) Si fust la place apres tost balee, et la poudre coylee 
de coste le eglise gettue en vn lyu dunt auaunt nout par- 
launce ; mes en fest le poer Den tauntost habundaunt par 
uirtue tregraciouse de queu merite le martyr estoyt a tute 
gent nout tost estre conu. Dunt en le lyu auaunt dist ou 
ne gweres en sa ariere moysture ny apparust mes euwe hi 
auoyt tut fust ele petite, sa colur naturele quant la poudre 
ressu auoit tost chaunga, cest a sauoir vne foiz en let et 
quatre foyz la colour de saunc reprist. E puys en sa na- 
ture demeyne returna. Si comensa aboylir de source 
habundaunte et demurt funtayne plentyuuse. Dunt puj'S 
plusurs greues de diuers maladies graciousement en sunt 
garys. 

20 



306 EXTRACTS FKOxM A MANUSCRIPT HISTORY. 

Ibid.,foL 150, cul. 1. 

( 2 ) [Ki?ig Henri/ II. after his peiiaiicej . . . Puis le matyn 
kaunt le iur cler apparust messe reqiiist et la oyst deuoute- 
meut et puis del ewe Seint Thomas bust a la funtaine 
auaunt nomee, ke de saunc et let la colur prist, et puys 
en sa nature i-eturua, et vne ampuUe de cele ewe pleyne oue 
ly prist, cum en signe de pelryn, et ioyous de Cauuterbur 
departist eel samady. 



THE TRxVNSLATION OF THE RELICS OF SAINT. 
THOMAS IN 1220. (See p. 239.) 

Harl. MS. G36,/o/. 202 b, col. 2, /. 15, ab ima. 

Ausi memes eel au la none de Jun a Caunterbire fust 
Seint Thomas le martir translate. Le an de sun martyre- 
ment 1. per lerseueske Estephene auaunt nome de Canter- 
bire. Cement ceste sollempnete estoyt feste a tote gent 
uoil estre conn, et me a forceray de cele la manere breve- 
ment parcunter. Lerseueske Estephene de Langetone del 
hure ke cele dignete out ressu, apres ceo ke en Engletere 
fust ariue et le couent del exil reuenu estoyt, se pur- 
pensa totes hures coment les reliq^i-i-p sun predecessur Seint 
Thomas le glorious martyr poeyt honurer par la translatiun 
fere, et la purueaunce des choses necessaries largement fist, 
cum ia mustre en fest seira. Dunt cum del iur certein ke 
cele translatiun soUempne fere uoloyt, an puple parmye la 
tere out la notificatiun fest, tauns des grauns hi sunt venuz, 
et puple cum sauns numbre, ke la cite de Caunterbire 
ne la suburbe, ne les menues uiles enuiroun, a cele yoing- 
nauntes procheynes, le puple taunt uenu ne poeyent en lurs 
mesuns resceyure. Le Roy ausi Henry le iij. a la requeste 
lerseueske de Caunterbire uenu hi estoit. Si demora oue 
lerseueske et ansemble oue ly tuz les grauns ke venus es- 
toyent la ueile et le iur de la translatiun en tuz custages. 



EXTRACTS FROM A MANUSCRIPT HISTORY. 307 

Estre ceo en les entrees ce la cite a chescune porte en m}' 
la ruel es toneaus de vin en foylis fist cocher lerseueske et 
ces mynistres mettre pur largement au puple doner en la 
chalyne sauns paer accune moneye. E ausi en quatre lyus 
dediens la cite en les quarfoucs en memes la raanere fist les 
toneaus mettre pur seruir a la mene gent. E defendre fist 
en les iiij. celers de vin ke riens ny fust au puple estraunge 
uendu, si nun pleynement a ces custages, et ceo par sereuwe 
de ces gens a ceo assignes. Quar nestoyt lors dediens la 
cite en plus de lyus uin troue a uendre. En teu manere les 
choses dehors ordines, lerseueske Estephene et Gauter le 
priur ansemble one tut le couent del eglise Jhu Crist en 
la nuyt procheyne deuaunt le iur de la translatiun en due 
furme de deuociun au sepulcre del martyr approcherent. 
E ilukes au comencement en luro orisuns se donerent tuz 
taunt cum la brefte de la nuyte le poeyt suffrir. Puys sunt 
les peres de la tumbe sauns bleniysement remues per les 
meyns des moygnes a ceo ordines, et se leuerent les autres 
tuz si aprocberent, et eel martyr de ioye regardauns ne se 
poeyent des lermes tenir. E puys autrefoyz as orisuns se 
unt dones tuz en comune hors pris accuns des moygnes ke 
de seinte vie especiaument elu fui'ent a eel tresor precious 
hors de sepnlcre remuer. Les queus le unt Icue et en une 
chace de fust honeste a ceu appareyle le unt mys. La quele 
de fer bien yert asseurie si la fermerent queyntement par 
clous de fer, et puyns en lyu honeste et priue le porterent 
taunt ke lendemeyn le iur de la translatiun sollempnement 
a cele brer. Puys le matyn en cele mere eglise se assem- 
blerent les prelats tuz, cest a sauoyr, Pandulf auaunt nome 
de la seinte eglise de rome legat, et Esteuene erseueske de 
Caunterbire one les autres eueskes ces suffragans tuz uenux 
hors pris troys, des queus liin mort estoyt et les deus par 
maladie furent escuses. Ceus en la presence le Eoy Den- 
gletere auaiint nome Henry le iij. au lyu ou le martyr 
glorious fust demore tost alerent, et la chace pristrent 
deuoutement en quer deuaunt lauter de la Trinite ke est 
en le orient del see petriarchal. Ilukes desuz un autre 



308 MARRIAGE OF EDWARD I. AT CANTERBURY. 

chace de fust trerichemeut de oer et des j^eres preciouses 
appareylee en tote reuerence hoiiuvablement cele mistrent. 
Si demurt par plate de oer tote part couerte et richement 
garnye. 



MARRIAGE OF EDWARD I. AT CANTERBURY. 

(See p. 277.) 

Had. MS. 636, ful. 225, col. 1, line i. 

Pus sur cele ordinaunce vint en Engletere la auauntdiste 
Margarete, et la v. Ide de Septembre lerceueske de Caunter- 
byre Robert les esposailes celebra entre le Eduuard auaunt- 
dist et cele Margarete en le bus del eglise de Caunterbyre 
deuers len cloistre de coste le has del martirement Seynt 
Thomas. Kar le roy hors de la chaumbre le priur vnit, et 
Murgrti'ete hors du paleys lerceueske oil lurs hosteaurs pris 
estoient. E sur ceo lerceueske auaunt nome Robert la messe 
des esposay les celebra al auter del fertre Seynt Thomas le 
martir. E le drap ke outre le roy et la royne fust estendu 
en tens de la benisun plusurs chalengerent. Cest a sauoyr 
lerceueske par la resun de sun office, le pi'iur par la resun 
de la mere eglise, en la quele vnkes accun riens ne ressust 
ne ne ouoyt de fee, par la resun de office ke en cele feist, 
pur ceo ke leglise de Caunterbyre ne est une chapele 
lerceueske, mes mere eglise de totes les eglises et chapeles 
de tute la prouince de Caunterbyre. Le clerc ausi ke la 
croyz lerceueske porta le auauntdist drap chalanga. E les 
clers ausi de la chapele le roy eel memos drap chalengerent. 
Dunt per ceo ke eu ten manere taunt de diners chalenges 
sur eel drap hy estoyent et certein vnkore nestoit a ki de 
droit demorer deuoyt, comaunda le roy eel drap au Cunte de 
Nichole liurer, ausi cum en owele meyn, taunt ke la dis- 
cussiun se preist, ky de droyt le deueroyt auoyr. Si fust 
eel drap negeres apres de par le roy au fertre Seynt Thomas 
maunde. Le samaday procheyn suyaunt la auauntdiste 
royne Margarete sa messe en la chapele lerceueske dediens 



"TRAVELS OF THE BOHEMIAN EMBASSY." 309 

le paleys oyst, la quele celebra le eueske de Couentre. Si 
ofFrist iliikes la royne a la manere de autres femmes sun 
cirge a les miens del eveske chaimtaiuit. E fust eel cirge 
tauntost au ferte Seiiit Thomas por-te. 



NOTE B. 

[In 1446 a Bohemian noble, Leo von Eotzmital, was sent 
on an embassy t(j England. His travels are related in two 
curious narratives, — one by a Bohemian, Schassek, now only 
known through a Latin translation ; the other, a German, 
Tetzel, of Nuremberg. They Avere published in 1847 by 
Professor Hye, in the University of Ghent, and were first 
introduced to the notice of the English public in an able 
and instructive article in the " Quarterly Eeview," of March, 
1852, ascribed to Mr. Ford. To his courtesy I am indebted 
for the volume from which the following extracts are made.] 

JOURNEY OF THE BOHEMIAN AMBASSADOR TO 
CANTERBURY. (See pp. 244, 261, 262.) 

(1) Post eura casum die tertia, rursus navim conscen- 
dentes, in Angliam cursum tenuimus. Cumque appropinqua- 
remus, conspeximus montes excelsos calce plenos, quam igne 
urere opus non est. 

li montes e longinquo nivibus operti videntur. lis arx 
adjacet, a Cacodaemonibus extructa, adeo valida et munita, 
nt in nulla Christianorum provincia par ei reperiri queat. 
Montes illos arceraque praetervecti Sandvico urbi appuli- 
mus ; ea mari adjacet, imde multae regiones navibus adiri 
possunt. Haec prima urbium Angliae in eo littore occurrit. 

Ibi primum conspexi navigia maritima. Naves, Galeones, 
et Cochas. Navis dicitur, quae ventis et solis agitur. Ga- 
leon est, qui remigio ducitur : eorum aliqui ultra ducentos 
remiges habent. Id navigii genus est magnitudine et longi- 



310 EXTRACTS FROM THE 

tudine praecellenti, quo et secundis et adversis veutis navi- 
gari potest. Eo, ut plm-imum, bella niaiitimageri consuevei'e, 
iitpote quod aliquot centenos homines simul capere possit. 
Tertiuni genus est Oocha, quam dicunt, et ea satis magna. 
Sed nullam rem magis demirabar, quam nautas malum as- 
cendentes, et ventorum adventum distantiamque praediceu- 
tes, et quae vela intendi, quaeve demi debeant, praecipientes. 
Inter eos unum nautam ita agilem vidi, iit vix cum eo 
quisquam comparari possit. 

Sandvici consuetudo est, ut totam noctem cum fidiciuibiis 
et tubicinibus obambulent, clamantes, et quis eo tempore 
ventus flet, annunciantes. Eo audito negociatores, si veutus 
sibi commodus flare nunciatur, egressi naves conscendunt et 
ad patrias suas cursum dirigunt. 

Sandvico Cantuariam octo milliarium iter est. Ea ui'bs 
est Archiepiscopo Angliae subjecta, qui ibi domicilium suum 
habet. Coenobium ibi visitur tanta elegantia, ut ei vix in 
ulla Christianorum provincia par inveniatur, sicut hac in re 
omnes peregrinatores consent! unt. Id teraplum triplici con- 
tignatione fornicata constat, ita vit tria templa, unum supra 
alteruni, censeri possint: desuper stanno totum contegitur. 

In eo templo occisus est Divus Thomas Cantuariensis 
Arciiiepiscopus, ideo quod in quis legibus, quas Res Henricus 
contra Ecclesiae Catholicae libertatem rogabat, sese constan- 
ter opposuit. Qui primum in exilium pulsus est, delude cum 
revocatus esset, in templo sub vespertinis precibus a nefa- 
riis hominibus, qui regi impio gratificari cupiebant, Deum et 
sanctos invocans, capite truncatus est. 

Ibi vidimus sepulchrum et caput ipsius. Sepulchrum ex 
puro auro conflatum est, et gemmis adornatum, tamque mag- 
nificis donariis ditatum, ut par ei nesciam. Inter alias I'es 
preciosas spectatur in eo et carbunculus gemma, qui noctu 
splendere solet, dimidi ovi gallinacei magnitudine. Illud 
enim sepulchrum a multis Regibus, Principibus, mercatori- 
bus opulent is, aliisque piis hominibus munifice locupletatum 
est. Ibi omnes reliquiae nobis monstratae sunt : primum 
caput Divi Thomae Archiepiscopi, rasuraque vel calvities 



"TRAVELS OF THE BOHEMIAN EMBASSY." 311 

ejusdem ; deinde colurana ante sacellum Genitricis Deijuxta 
quam orare, et cuUoquiu Ueatae virginis (quod a multis visum 
et audituni esse nobis certo attirmabatur) perfrui solitus est. 
Sed ex eo tempore, quo haec facta fuerant jam anni trecenti 
elapsi sunt. Divus autem ipse non statim pro sancto habi- 
tus est, verum post aunos demum duceutos, cum ingentibus 
miraculis inclaresceret, in numerum divorum relatus est. 

Fons est in eo coenobio, cujus aquae quinquies in san- 
guinem, et semel in lac commutatae fuerant, idque non multo 
ante, quam nos eo venissemus, factum esse dicitur. 

Caeteras sacras reliquias, quas ibi conspeximus, omnes au- 
notavi, quae hae sunt : primuni vidimus redimiculum Beatae 
virginis, frustum de veste Christi, tresque spinas de corona 
ejusdem. 

Deinde coutemplati sumus sancti Thomae subuculum, et 
cerebrum ejus, et divorum Tliomae lohannisque Apostolorum 
sanguinem. Spectavimus etiam gladium, quo decollatus est 
sanctus Thomas Cantuariensis, et crines matris Dei, et por- 
tionem de sepulchro ejusdem. Monstrabatur quoque nobis 
pars humeri Divi Simeonis, ejus, qui Christum in ulnis ges- 
taverat, Beatae Lustrabenae caput, crus unum S. Georgii, 
frustum corporis et ossa S. Laurentii, crus S. Romani Epis- 
copi crus Eicordiae virginis, calix Beati Thomae, quo in 
administratione Missae Cantnariae uti fuerat solitus, crus 
Mildae virginis, crus Euduardae virginis. Aspeximus quo- 
que dentem Joliannis Baptistae, portionem crucis Petri et 
Andreae Apostolorum, ossa Philippi et Jacobi Apostolorum, 
dentem et digitum Stephani Martyris, ossa Catharinae vir- 
ginis, oleumque de sepulchro ejus, quod ad banc usque diem 
inde manare fertur ; crines Beatae IVIaviae Magdalenae, 
dentem divi Benedicti, digitum sancti Urbani, labia unius 
infantium ab Herode occisorum, ossa beati Clementis, ossa 
divi Vincentii. Et alia plurima nobis monstrabantur, quae 
hoc loco a me annotata non sunt, 

Cantuaria digressi per noctera substitimus Rochesteriae, 
urbe viginti milliaribus inde distante. Rochesteria Lon- 
diuum, viginti quatuor milliarium itinere confecto, progressi 



312 EXTRACTS FROM THE 

sumus. Ea est, urbs ampla et magnifica, arces habet duas. 
Earuin alteram, quae in exti'erao urbis sita, sinu maris 
alluitur, Rex Angliae incolit quem ibi oftendimus. Ille siuus 
(Thamesis 11.) poiite lapideo longo, super quem per totam 
ejus longitudinem aedes sunt extructae, sternitur. Nullibi 
tantum milvorum iiumerum vidi, quam ibi, quos laedere 
capitale est. 

Londini cum essemus, deduct! sumus in id templum, in 
quo Divus Thomas natus esse fertur ; ibi matris et sororis 
ipsius sepulchra visuntur ; delude et in alterum ubi S. Keu- 
hai'dus sepultus est. 



(2) Do fuoren wir mit grossem ungewittur in ein stat, 
heisst Kanterburg. 

Meiuem herrn und andern gesellen thet das mer so we, 
das sie auf dem schift" lagen, als wteren sie tot. 

Kanterburg ist in Engallant und gehort dem kunig A"on 
Engellant zu. Do leit der lieb herr saut Thomas. In der 
selben stat ist gar ein kostlicher sarch im miinster, wann es 
ist ein bistum da und gar ein hiibsche kirchen. Der sarch, 
darinne sant Thomas leit, ist das geringst daran gold, und 
ist lang und weit, das ein mitlein person darin ligen mag ; 
aber mit perlein und edelgestein so ist er gar seer kostlich 
geziert, das man meint, das kein kostlicher sarch sey in der 
christenheit, und da audi so gross wunderzeichen geschehen 
als da. 

Item zu einen zeiten, da het sich ein kunig von Frankreich 
in einem veldstreit dahin gelobt ; also gcsigt der kunig seinen 
veinden ob und kam zu dem miinster und zu dem heiligeu 
herrn sant Thomas, und kniet fiir den sarch und sprach sein 
gebet und het einen ring an seiner hand, darin was ser ein 
kostlicher stein. Alsh het der bischof des selben miinster 
Kanterburg den kunig gebeten, er sol den ring mitsamt dem 
stein an den sarch geben. Der kxmig saget, der stein wser 
im zu vast lieb und hett grossen glauben : was er anfieng, so 
er den ring an der hand hett, das jm nit mocht mislingen. 



"TRAVELS OF THE BOHEMIAN EMBASSY." 313 

Aber er wolt jm an den sarcli geben, dumit er aber desder 
basser geziert ward, huuderttausend gaildeu. Der bischof 
was ser fro uud dankt dem kunig. Sobald dei' kuuig die wort 
het geredet und dem bischof den ring liet versagt, von stund 
an springt der stein auss dem ring und mitten in den sarch 
als hett en ein goldschmid hinein gemacht. Do das mii'acul 
der kuuig sach, do bat er den lieben herrn saut Thomas und 
den bischof, das er jm sein siind vei"geb, und gab darnach den 
ring und etwan vil ob hunderdt tausend gulden an den sarch. 
Xiemand kan gewissen wass stein das ist. Er hat ser einen 
hellen liechten schein uud brinnt als ein liecht, das kein 
gesicht erleiden mag, jn so stark anznshens, domit man jm 
sein varb erkennen mcicht. Man meint, das er an seiner, giiet 
so kostlich sey : so ein kunig von Engellant gefangeu ward, 
so mbcht man jn damit losen ; wann er sey kostlicher, dann 
das ganz Engelland. Und unter dem sarch ist die stat, do der 
lieb herr sant Thoraas enthaubtet worden ist, und ob dem 
sarch hecht ein grob harein hemd, das er angetragen hatt, und 
auf der linken seiten, so man hinein geet, do ist eiun brunn, 
darauss hat sant Thomas altag trunken. Der hat sich zu 
sant Thomas zeiten funfmal verwandelt in milch uud blut. 
Darauss trank meiun herr Herr Lew und all sein diener. 
Und darnach geet man in ein kleine grufft als in ein cap- 
pellen, da man sant Thomas gemartert hat. Da zeiget man 
uns das schwert, damit man jm den kopf abgeschlageu hat. 
Da weiset man auch ein merklich stuck des heiligen creuzes, 
audi der nagel einen und den rechten arm des lieben herrn 
Ritter sant Gorgen und etlich dorn in einer mostranzen von 
der diirnen krou. 

Auss der cappellen get man hei'fur zu einem steinen stul, 
da ist nnser Fraweu bild, dasgar oft mit sant Thomas geredet 
hat. Das selbig bild stet iezunt im kor und hat ser von 
kostlichem gestein und pei'lein ein kron auf, die man umb 
gross gut schatzt. Da sahen wir gar kostlich cantores 
meinem herrn zu eren ein schons salve singen. In unser 
sprach heisst man den sant Thomas von Kandelberg ; aber 
er heisst saut Thomas von Kanterbure;. 



314 EXTRACTS FROxM THE " PELERINO INGLESE." 

NOTE C. 

[The following extract is from a work of William Thomas, 
Clerk of the Privy Council in the reign of Edwaixl VI., who 
was executed in the reign of Mar}^ for an alleged share in 
"VVyatt's conspiracy. Amongst other works he left a " De- 
fence of King Henry VIII.," entitled " II Pelerino Inglese," 
which is couched in the form of a dialogue with some 
Italian gentlemen, who ask him numerous questions as to 
the common charges against the king, to which he replies. 
The work is in the Cotton MSS. in the British Museum, and 
has since been published by Mr. Froude, under the title of 
" The Pilgrim.''] 

THE WELL AND THE SHRINE OF BECKET. 

(See pp. 272,293.) 

Cotton MS., Veffpasutn D xcili p. 61. 

" ' These wordes were marked of them that wayted on the 
table, in sucli wise that witliout more adoe, iij of those 
gentyhnen waiters considerated together, and streyght wayes 
toke their iourney to Canterbury, where tarrying their tyme, 
on an euening fyndyng this Byshop in the common cloyster, 
after they had asked hym cei'tayne questions, whereunto he 
most arrogantly made answere, they slew hym. And here 
began the holynes, for incontinently as these gentylmen 
were departed, the monkes of that monastery locked np the 
church doores, and perswaded the people that the bells fell 
on ryngyng by them selves, and here was crying of " miracles, 
miracles," so earnestly that the deuilish monks, to nourish 
the supersticion of this new martired saynt, having the place 
longe tyme seperate unto them selves, quia propter san- 
guinem suspenduntur sacra, corrupted the fresh water of a 
well thereby, with a certayne mixture; that many tymes it 
appeared bloudy, which they perswaded should procede by 
myracle of the holy marterdome : and the water mervey- 
lously cured all manner of inhrmities, insomuch that the 



EXTRACTS FKOM THE " PELERINO INGLESE." 315 

ignoraunt multitude came runnying together of all haudes, 
specyally aft(!r the false mii-acles were confermed by the 
popes canonisaciou, which folowed withiu a few yeres after 
as sone as the Romayue See had ratitied this saintes glory 
in heaven : yea, and more, these fayned miracles had such 
credit at leugth, that the poore kinge himselfe was per- 
swaded to beleve them, and in effect came in person to visett 
the holy place with greate repeutaunce of his passed euil 
doyng, and for satisfaction of his synnes gave many greate 
and fayre possessions to the monasterye of the foresayde 
religious : and thus finally was this holy martir sanctified 
on all handes. Butt the kynges maiestie that now is dead 
fyndyng the maner of the saints lyfe to agree evil with 
the propoi'tione of a very sainte, and merveylyng at the ver- 
tue of this water, that healed all infirmities, as the blynde 
world determined, to see the substanciall profe of this thinge, 
in effect found these miracles to be utterly false, for when 
snpersticion was taken away from the ignoraunt multitudes, 
then ceassed all the vertue of this water, which now re- 
mayneth playne water, as all other watei'S do : so that the 
kyng moved of necessitie, could no lesse do then deface the 
shryne that was author of so much ydolatry. Whether 
the doyng thereof hath bene the uudoyng of the canonised 
saint, or not, I cannot tell. But this is true, that his bones 
are spred amongest the bones of so many dead men, that 
without some greate miracle they wyll not be found agayne.' 
' By my ti'outh' (sayde one of the gentylmen) 'in this your 
kynge dyd as I wold have done.' ' What ' (quoth niyne 
adversary), ' do ye credit him V ' Within a litle,' sayd that 
other, ' for his tale is sensible : and I have knowen of the 
lyke false miracles here in Italy e, proved before my face.'" 



316 THE PILGRIMS' WAY TOWARDS THE SHRINE. 

NOTE D. (See p. 244.) 

THE PILGRIMS' WAY OR PATH TOWARDS THE SHRINE 
OF ST. THOMAS OF CANTERBURY. 

The evidence of local tradition in several places in Surrey 
and Kent appears to favor the supposition that a line of 
road, tracked out possibly in very early times, even before 
the coming of the liomaus, and running along the south 
flank of the north Downs, which traverse Surrey from Farn- 
ham westward into Kent, and thence towards Canterbury, 
had been subsequently frequented by pilgrims in their pro- 
gress from Southampton, as also from the west through 
Winchester, to the Shrine of St. Thomas. It has been 
supposed, with much probability, that Henry II., when he 
landed at Southampton, July 8, 1174, and made his pil- 
grimage to Becket's tomb, may have ap2jroached Canterbury 
by this route. 

It may be assumed that foreign devotees from Brittany, 
Anjou, the western parts of Normandy, and the adjacent 
provinces of France would choose the moi-e convenient 
transit from the mouth of the Sehie, or other French ports, 
to the ancient haven of Hanton, or Southampton. That 
place, from the earliest times, was greatly frequented on 
account of the facilities which it presented to commercial 
intercourse with the continent, and its vicinity to the 
ancient capital of the Heptarchy, the city of Winchester, 
where our earlier sovereigns constantly resided. This course 
would obviously be more commodious to many, who were 
attracted to our shores by the important ecclesiastical estab- 
lishm.ents which surrounded the Shrine of St. Swithin at 
Winchester, and still more by the extended celebrity of the 
reliques of Saint Thomas ; whilst pilgrims from the more 
northern parts of France, or from Flanders, would prefer 
the more frequented passage by Seaford, Dover, or Sandwich. 

On leaving Southampton, the pilgrims — unless their 
course lay by Winchester — would probably take the most 



The Baptistery. 



THE PILGRIMS" WAY 

secure and direct liue of commuuication towards Famham, 
crossing the Itchen at Stonehaai, and thence in the dii-ectiou 
of Bishop's AValtham, Alton, and Froyle. It is, however, 
by no means evident that the line would pass through those 
places ; and it must be left to the local observation of those 
who may care to investigate the ancient trackways of Ham|> 
shire, whether the course of the pilgrims may not have 
passed from Southampton, in the direction of Dui'ley, to 
Upham, and rather north of Bishop's Waltham, falling into 
the '' Salt Lane "' (a name often serving to indicate the trace 
of an early line of communication), and so either by Cheri- 
ton and Alresford, or by Ropley into the old road fi'om Win- 
chester to Farnham, or else over MilbaiTow and Kilmisou 
downs, towards Farnham. Or the track may have passed 
by Beacon Hill, west of Warnford, joining the present road 
from Fareham to Alton, or about nine miles south of the 
latter. Near this liue of road, moreover, a little west of it, 
and about three miles from Alton, a trace of the course of 
the " Pilgrims' Path " seems to be found in the name of a 
farm or dwelling near Rotherfield Park and East Tisted, 
still known as " Pilgrims' Place." 

At Farnham the abrupt termination of the Surrey Downs 
presents itself, in the remarkable ridge known as the " Hog's 
Back." Thence there ai'e two communications towards 
Guildford, diverging at a place called " Whiteway's End,"' 
one being the main turnpike-road along the ridge, the other 
— and probably the more ancient — running under that 
height towards the tumulus and adjoining eminence south 
of Guildford, known as St. Catharine's Hill, where it seems 
to have crossed the river Wey, at a ferry towards Shalford. 
The name of " Conduit Farm," near this line, situate on the 
south flank of the Hog's Back, may possibly be worth obser- 
vation. Eastward of Guildford, the way doubtless proceeded 
along the flank of the downs, by or near St. Martha's Chapel, 
situate on a remarkable eminence, insulated from the ad- 
jacent downs. 

One of the countv historians uives the followins: observa- 



318 THE PILGRIMS' WAY TOWARDS THE SHRINE. 

tion under Albury : " The ancient path called the Pilgrims' 
Way, which led from the city of Winchester to Canterbury, 
crosses this parish, and is said to have been much used in 
former times." ^ From Albury the line of the way, running 
east, is in many places discernible on the side of the Surrey 
Downs, sometimes still used as an occupation road, or bridle- 
way, its course indicated frequently by yew-trees at inter- 
vals, which are to be seen also occasionally left standing in 
the arable fields, where ancient enclosures have been thrown 
down and the plough has effaced every other vestige of this 
ancient track. The line, for the most part, it would seem, 
took its course about midway down the hillside, and on the 
northern verge of the older cultivation of these chalk-downs. 
The course of the way would doubtless have been marked 
more distinctly, had not the progress of modern improve- 
ments often extended the line of cultivation upwards, and 
converted from time to time further portions of the hillside 
into arable laud. Under the picturesque height of Boxhill 
several yews of large size remain in ploughed land, reliques 
no doubt of this ancient way ; and a row more or less con- 
tinuous marks its progress as it leads towards Reigate, 
passing to the north of Brockham and Betchworth. 

It may be worth inquiry whether Reigate [Saxon, Rige- 
gate, the Ridge-road), originally called Cherchefelle, may 
not have received its later name from its proximity to such 
a line of communication east and west along the downs, 
rather than from the supposed ancient ascent northward," 
over the ridge to Gatton, and so towards London. 

It must be noticed, in connection with the transit of pil- 
grims along the way, at no great distance noi'th of Reigate 
towards the Shrine of St. Thomas, that when they descended 
to that little town to seek lodging or provisions, they there 
found a little chapel dedicated to the saint, midway in their 

1 Brayley's History of Surrey, v. 168. 

2 Tliis supposition lias been sometimes aclvancerl. (See Manning and 
Bray, i. 271.) It is there conjectured that a branch of the Stone Street 
turned off from Ockley by Newdigate to Reigate, and so over the Ridge. 



THE PILGRIMS' WAY TOWARDS THE SHRINE. 319 

journeying from Southampton or Winchester towards Canter- 
bury. The site is now occupied by the town-hall or court- 
house, built about 1708, when the chapel had been demol- 
ished. In 1801, when an enlargement of the prison, here 
used at Quarter Sessions, was made, some portions of the 
foundations of this Chapel of St. Thomas were brought to 
view.^ 

Proceeding eastward from Eeigate, the way traversed the 
parish of Merstham. The county histoiy states " that a 
lane in the parish retains the name of Pilgrims' Lane. It 
runs in the direction of the chalk-hills, and was the course 
taken by pilgrims from the west, who resorted (as indeed 
from all parts) to Canterbury, to pay their devotions at the 
Shrine of St. Thomas a Becket. It remains perfect in Tit- 
sey, a parish to the east of this." ^ 

The way may have proceeded by Barrow Green, and the 
remarkable tumulus there situated, in the parish of Oxtead ; 
and although the traces are obscure, owing to the progress 
of cultivation along the flank of the downs, positive vesti- 
ges of the line occur at intervals. Thus, in the parish of 
Tatsfield the county historian relates that Sir John Gresham 
built his new house " at the bottom of the hill near the 
Pilgrim Road (so called from the Passage of pilgrims to the 
Shrine of Thomas a Becket, at Canterbury), which is now 
perfect, not nine feet wide, still used as a road. It com- 
mences at the village of Titsey, and passes on close to the 
foot of the hill, through this parish into Kent." A more 
recent writer, Brayley, describing this Pilgrims' Road in the 
parish of Tatsfield, says that the measurement stated to be 
" not nine feet " is incorrect. " It is in fact about fifteen 
feet in width, and without any appearance of having been 
wndened." ^ Mr. Leveson Gower, of Titsey Place, has a farm 
adjacent to it, and known as the " Pilgrimsway Farm." At 
no great distance from the course of the way, near Titsey, 

1 Manning and Bray's History of Snrrejs i. 288, 289. 

2 Ibid., ii. 253 ; Gentleman's Magazine, xcvii. ii. 414. 

3 Manning and Bray, ii. 403 ; Brayley's History, iv. 198. 



320 THE PILGRIMS' WAY TOWARDS THE SHRINE. 

there is a small unenclosed green on the ridge of the downs, 
bearing the designation of " Cold Harbour,'' a name con- 
stantly found near lines of ancient road. 

Not far from Tatsfield the Pilgrims' Way entered the 
county of Kent, and its course appears plainly indicated 
towards Chevening Park. From thence it seems to have 
traversed the pastures and the opening in the hills, serving 
as a passage for the river Darent ; and it is found again 
skirting the chain of downs beyond for several miles, rarel}^, 
if ever, passing through the villages or hamlets, but j^ursuing 
a solitary course about a quarter of a mile more or less to 
the northward of them. This observation applies generally 
to this ancient track. It is to be traced passing thus above 
Kemsing, Wrotham, TrottesclifFe, and a few small hamlets, 
till it approaches the Medway. From Otford towards the 
east to Hailing, the track appears to be well known, as I am 
informed by the Rev. W. Pearson, of Canterburj^ as " the 
Pilgrims' Eoad." He describes this portion as a narrow way, 
much like an ordinary parish road, and much used as a line 
of direct communication along the side of the downs. The 
name is generally recognized in that part of the county, and 
the tradition is that pilgrims used in old times to ride 
along that road towards Canterbury. In the maps given in' 
Hasted's History of Kent, this line is marked as the Pilgrims' 
Road, near Otford, as also near Hailing. Here, doubtless, 
a branch of the original ancient track proceeded along the 
high ground on the west of the river Medway, towards 
Strood and the Watling Street. This might have been in- 
deed, it were reasonable to suppose, the more convenient 
mode of pursuing the remainder of the journey to Canter- 
bury. It is, however, more probable that the Pilgrims' Way 
crossed the pastures and the Medway, either at Snodland or 
Lower Hailing, and regained the hills on the opposite side, 
along the flank of which it ran as before, near Kits Coty 
House, leaving Boxley Abbey to the south at no great dis- 
tance, and slightly diverging towards the southeast, by Dept- 
ling, Thurnhanif and the hamlet of Broad Street, progressed 



THE PILGRIMS' WAY TOWARDS THE SHRINE. 321 

past Hollingbouni, Havrietsham, and Lenham, towards Char- 
ing/ where the lane passing about half a mile to the north 
of that place is still known, as Mr. Pearson informs me, by 
the name of the Pilgrims' Eoad. The remarkable feature of 
its course is invariable, since it does not pass through any 
of these places, but near them ; namely, from a quarter to 
half a mile to the north of them. 

From Charing the ancient British track may have con- 
tinued towards the sea by Wye, near another " Cold Har- 
bour," situate at the part of the continuation of the hilly 
chain, east of Wye, and so by Stouting, across the Eoman 
Stone Street, to the coast. The pilgrims, it may be con- 
jectured, directed their course from Charing through the 
woodland district, either by Chilham and along the north 
bank of the river Stour, thus approaching Canterbury by 
an ancient deep road, still strikingly marked on the flank 
of the hill, not far from Harbledown. Another course from 
Charing may, however, have been taken rather more north 
of the present road from that place to Canterbury ; and such 
a line may be traced by Snode Street, Beacon Hill, Stone 
Stile, and Fisher's Street, — names indicative of an ancient 
track, and so by Hatch Green and Bigberry Wood, straight 
into the deep way already mentioned, at Harbledown, which 
falls nearly in a straight line with the last half-mile of the great 
road from London entering into Canterbury at St. Dunstan's 
Church. It must, however, be remai'ked, that the hillside 
lane proceeds in a direct line towards the southeast beyond 
Charing ; and although it presented a more circuitous course 
towards Canterbury, it may, especially in earlier times, have 
been frequented in preference to any shorter path across the 
w^oodland district. The line indeed is distinct, passing north 
of Westwell and Eastwell ; and I am here again indebted to 
the local knowledge of my obliging informant, the Rev. W. 
Pearson, who states that an ancient track, still known as the 

1 At Charing a reniarkalile reliqne was shown, — the block on which 
John the Baptist was beheaded. It was brought to England by Ricliard I. 
(Philii^ot, p. 100.) 

21 



322 THE PILGRIMS' WAY TOWARDS THE SHRINE. 

Pilgrims' Eoad, exists, ruimiug above the Ashford mid Can- 
terbury turnpike-road — and parallel with it. It is a bridle- 
way, taking its course near the villages of Boughton Alph 
and Godmersham, towards Canterbury. 

There can be no doubt that frequent vestiges of the 
" Pilgrims' Path " might be traced by actual examination 
of the localities along the course here tracked out, chiefly 
by aid of the Ordnance Survey. The careful investigation of 
this remarkable ancient track might throw light upon the 
earlier occupation of the southeastern parts of England ; 
although there are no indications of its having been formed 
by the Romans, there can be little doubt that it was used by 
them, as evinced by numerous vestiges of villas and other 
remains of the Roman age near its course. It is difficult to 
explain the preference shown, as it would appear, by the 
pilgrims of later times for a route which avoided the towns, 
villages, and more populous districts, whilst a road for the 
most part is found at no great distance, pursuing its course 
through them parallel to that of the secluded Pilgrims' Path. 
Our thoughts naturally recur to times of less fixvored social 
conditions than our own, — times of misrule or distrust, 
when, to repeat an apposite passage of Holy Writ cited in a 
former part of this volume, as " in the days of Shamgar. 
the son of Anath, in the days of Jael, the highways were 
unoccupied, and the travellers walked through byways."^ 

It may be here observed that the principal route to Wal- 
singham, by Newmarket, Brandon, and Fakenham, was 
known as the " Palmers' Way," or " Walsingham Green 
Way." 

A. W. 

Judges V. 6. 



PILGRIMAGE OF JOHN OF FRANCE. 323 



NOTE E. 

VISIT OF JOHN, KING OF FRANCE, TO THE SHRINE OF 
ST. THO.MAS IN 1360. (See pp. 164, 276.) 

Ox two memorable occasions was the Shrine of St. Thomas 
visited by a King of France, — the first being the solemn 
pilgrimage made in 1179 by Lonis VII., to whom, according 
to the relation of Brompton, the saint had thrice appeared 
in a vision. No French king previous to that time, as is 
observed by a contemporary chronicler, had set foot on Eng- 
lish ground. The king came in the habit of a pilgrim • 
amongst his rich oblations were the celebrated gem, the 
lapis regalis, and the grant to the convent of a hundred 
modii of wine, forever. "We are indebted to the Historical 
Society of France for the publication of certain particulai'S 
regarding another royal visit to Canterbury ; namely, that 
made by John, King of France, on his return from captivity 
in England, after the Treaty of Bretigny, John, with Philip, 
his youngest son, had been taken prisoners at the field of 
Poitiers, Sept. 20, 1356 ; and they were brought to England 
by the Black Prince, in May following. Their route to Lon- 
don lay, according to the relation of Froissart, by Canter- 
bury and Eochester ; and he states that the captives rested 
for a day to make their offerings to Saint Thomas. 

The document which has supplied the following particu- 
lars of the visit on their quitting England is the account by 
the king's chaplain and notary of the expenditure daring 
the last year of his captivity, from July 1, 1359, to July 8, 
1360, when John landed at Calais.^ 

On the last day of June, 1360, John took his departure 
from the Tower of London, and proceeded to Eltham Palace, 

1 Comptes de I'Argenterie des Rois de France au XlVe siecle, edited by 
L. Douet-d'Arcq for the Soci^t^ de I'Histoire de France. Paris, 1851. The 
Journal of King John's expenses in England commences at page 194, and 
it is followed by an Itinerary of the king's captivity in England (pp. 278- 
284). This curious Journal is preserved in the Imperial Library at Paris. 



324 PILGRIMAGE OF JOHN OF FRANCE. 

where a grand farewell entertainment had been prepared by- 
Queen Philippa ; on the next day, July 1, after dinner the 
king took his leave, and passed the night at Dartford. It 
may suffice to observe that five days were occupied in his 
journey to Canterbury, whei'e he arrived on July 4, re- 
maining one night, and proceeded on the following day, 
being Sunday, to Dover. The journal records the frequent 
offerings and alms dispensed liberally by the king at various 
places along his route from Eltham, — to the friars at Dart- 
ford ; the master and brothers of the Ostel Dieu, at Ospi'ing, 
where he lodged for the night ; to four maladeries, or hos- 
pitals for lepers ; and to " Messire Richard Lexden, chevalier 
anglois qui est hermite lez Stiborne " (Sittingbourne). The 
knightly anchorite received no less than twenty nobles, val- 
ued at £6 13s. 4f/. As John passed Harbledown, ten escuz, 
or 23s. id., were given by the king's command as alms to the 
" nonains de Helbadonne lez Cantoi^erie." 

The following entries record the offerings of the king and 
of Philip, his son, afterwards Duke of Burgundy, the compan- 
ion of his captivity : " Le Roy, offerande faicte par li en 3 
lieux de I'eglise de S. Thomas de Cantorberie, sans les joy- 
aux qu'ily donna, 10 nobles, valent £33 Gs. 8fZ. Monseigneur 
Philippe, pour samblable, en ce lieu, 16 royaux, 3.s. piece." ^ 
The three places at which the king's offerings were made 
may probably have been the shrine, the altar ad punctum 
ensis in the Martyrdom, and the head of the saint, described 
by Erasmus as shown in the crypt.^ The jewels presented 
by John on this occasion are not described ; but they were 
probably of a costly character, since his offering in money 

1 JoTirnal de la depense du Roi Jean, p. 272. 

2 In llie Household Accounts of 25, 26 Edward HI., the olilations of 
Queen Philippa are thus recorded: "At the shrine, 40s.; at the 7J!<?it;<K?)i 
ensis, 5s.; and in alms, 12f?." Edmund of Woodstock offered at the same 
time 12(1. at the shrine ; the like amount at the image of the Virgin in the 
cr\\ii {in volta), at t\\e ]}uncium ensis, and at the head of Saint Thomas. 
(Battely, p. 20. ) Edward I. appears to have presented annually ajirmaculum 
of gold, value £5, at the shrine and at the image of the Virgin in vouta; and 
ornaments of the same value were offered in the name of his queen and of 
Prince Edward. (Liber Garderobe Edw. I.) 



PILGRIMAGE OF JOHN OF FRANCE. 325 

amounted only to ten nobles, whereas at St. Augustine's, 
where he heard Mass on the Sunday morning before his 
departure for the coast, his offering was seventy-tive nobles.^ 
These joyaux may have been precious ol)jects of ornament 
which the king had about his person at the moment, and 
they were accordingly not entered by the chaplain amongst 
current expenses. The offerings at the shrine were usually, 
it is well known, rings, brooches or fir maada, and the like. 
The precious Regale of France appears to have actually been 
worn by Louis Vll. at the time of his pilgrimage, when he 
offered that jewel to the saint. 

On the 5th of July, John reached Dover, and took up his 
lodging with the brothers of the Maison Dieu, where ti'avel- 
lers and pilgrims were constantl}' entertained. On the mor- 
row he dined with the Prince of Wales at the Castle, and set 
sail for Calais after dinner on the following day (July 6) 
with the shipping provided by Edward III. for his accom- 
modation. He made an offering to Saint Nicholas for the 
vessel in which he crossed the Channel, and reached Calais 
safely on July 8. Edward sent as a parting gift to his 
royal captive a chess-board ("j. instrument appelle I'esche- 
quier"), which must have been of considerable value, since 
twenty nobles were given to the maker, who brought it to 
the king. He presented also a more appropriate gift, — the 
gohelet in which he was accustomed to drink, — in return for 
which John sent " le propre henap a qnoy il buvoit, qui fu 
monseigneur St. Loys." ^ 

A. W. 

1 The alms of the King of France were distriljuted with no niggardly 
hand on this occasion. To the Friars preachers in Canterbury he gave twenty 
noliles, as also to the Cordeliers and the Augnstinians, and smaller sums to 
the nonains of Northgate and of St. Angustine, the women of the Hospital 
of o\vc Lady, etc. (Journal, p. 273.) 

2 Ducange, in his notes on Joinville, mentions this cnp of gold which 
had been used by Saint Louis, and was preserved as a saci'ed relique ; and 
for a long time it was not used, through respect to the saint. It is described 
in the time of Louis X., as " la coupe d'or S. Loys, oil Ton ne boit point." 



326 DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 



NOTE F. 

DOCUMENTS PRESERVED AMONGST THE RECORDS IN 
THE TREASURY AT CANTERBURY. 

1. — Grant of the Manor of Doccombe by William de Tracy. 

(See p. 1.30 ) 

Amongst the possessions of the monastery of Christ 
Church, Canterbury, enumerated in the hst of the " Dona- 
tiones Manerionini et Ecclesiarum," published by Somner, 
and given in the Monasticon, the grant of Doccombe is re- 
corded : ^ " WilliehBus Tracy dedit Doccombe tempore Hen- 
rici secundi, idem domum confirmantis." The manor of 
Doccombe, Daccombe, or Dockham, in the parish of Moreton 
Hampstead, Devonshire, still forms part of the possessions 
of the church of Canterbury. 

The grant by William de Tracy has not, as far as I can 
ascertain, been printed ; nor, with the exception of a note 
appended to Lord Lyttelton's " Life of Henry II.," have I 
found mention of the existence of such a document, with 
the seal described as that of Tracy appended, preserved in 
the Ti'easury at Canterbury. There can be no doubt that 
the granter was the identical William de Tracy who took so 
prominent a part in the murder of Thomas a Becket. Lord 
Lyttelton supposed that it might be his grandson.^ The 
document is not dated ; but there is evidence that the grant 
was made within a short period after that event, which took 
place on Dec. 29, 1170. 

The confirmation by Henry IT. of Tracy's grant at Doc- 
combe is tested at Westminster, the regnal year not being 
stated. Amongst the witnesses, however, occur " R. Electo 
Winton, R. Electo Hereford, Johanne Decano Sarum." 

1 Somner's Antiquities of Canterbury, Appendix, p. 40; Monast. Angl., 
Caley's edition, 1. 98. In the Valor, 26 Hen. VHI., the manor of Doc- 
combe, part of the possessions of Christ Church, is valued at £6 6s. Sd. 
per annum. 

2 Lord Lyttelton's Life of Henry H., iv. 284. 



Tbe Cathedral, Lady's Cbapd. 



DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 327 

Richard Toelive was elected Bishop of Wincljester, May 1, 
1173; confirmed and consecrated in October, 1174, Rob- 
ert Foliot was elected Bishop of Hereford in 1173, and 
consecrated in October, 1174. John de Oxeneford was 
Dean of Sarum from 1165 until he was raised to the See 
of ]S"orwich in 1175. It was only on July 8, 1174, that 
Henry II. returned to England after a lengthened absence 
amongst his French possessions : he ci'ossed to Southampton, 
and forthwith proceeded to Canterbury, to perform his mem- 
orable humiliation at the Shrine of St. Thomas. The date 
of his confirmation of Tr-acy's gift is thus ascertained to be 
between July and October, 1174, and probably immediately 
on the king's arrival at Westminster after his pilgrimage 
to Canterbury.^ 

Tracy's gift had moreover, as it appears, been regarded 
by the monks of Christ Church as an oblation to make some 
amends for his crime. In one of the registers of the monas- 
tery a transcript of a letter has been preserved, addressed 
by Prior Henry de Estria to Hugh de Courtenay.^ It bears 
date July 4, 1322, and reminds Sir Hugh — doubtless the 
second baron of Okehampton of that name, and subsequently 
created Earl of Devon by Edward III. — that the charter of 
William de Tracy, with the confirmation by Henry II., had 
been shown to him as evidence regarding " la petite terre qe 
le dit William dona a nostre esglise et a nous a Dockumbe, 
en pure et perpetuele almoigne, pur la mort Saint Thomas." 
The Prior requests accordingly his oi'ders to his " ministi'es " 
at that place to leave the tenants of the monastery in peace- 
able possession. 

Original Charter, Canterbunj Treasurj/, D. 20. 

Willelmus de Traci omnibus hominibus suis tam Francis 
quam Anglis, et amicis, et ballivis, et ministris, et omnibus 
ad quos littere iste pervenerint, Salutem. Dono et concede 

1 This confirmation by Henry II. may be found in the Registers, 2, fol. 
400, and 8, fol. 26, verso. 

2 Register K, 12, fol. 129, verso. 



32S DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 

Capitula Cantnai*' pro amove del et salute anime mee, pre- 
decessorum meorum, et amore beati Thome Archipresulis 
et Martiris memorie veneraude, in puram et perpetuain 
elemosinam, Centum solidatas terre in Mortuna, scilicet 
Documbam cum pertinentiis et cum terris affinioribus, ita 
quod ex Docuniba et aliis terris proximis perficiantur centum 
ille solidate terre. Hoc autem dono ad monachum unum- 
vestiendum et pascendum omnibus diebus secul' ^ in domo 
ilia, qui ibi divina celebret pro salute vivorum et requie de- 
functorum. Ut hoc autem firmum sit et ratum et inconcus- 
sum et stabile sigilli mei munimine et Carta mea confirmo. 
His testibus, Abbate de Eufemia, Magistro Radulfo de 
Hospitali, Pagano de Tirn', Willelmo clerico, Stephano de 
Pirforde, Pagano de Acforde,^ Rogero Anglico, Godefrido 
Eibaldo et aliis. 

To this document is appended a seal of white wax, the 
form pointed oval, the design rudely executed, representing 
a female figure with veiy long sleeves reaching nearly to 
her feet. Some traces of letters may be discerned around 
the margin of the seal, but too much worn away to be deci- 
phered. It must be observed that notwithstanding the ex- 
pression " sigilli mei munimine," it can scarcely be supposed 
that this seal was actually that customarily used by Tracy. 
The pointed oval form was almost exclusively appropriated 
to seals of ladies, ecclesiastics, and conventual establish- 
ments. The figure a manckes mal tallies is a device seem- 
ingly most inappropriate to the knightly Trac}'. It is 
probable, and not inconsistent with the ancient practice 
of sealing, that having no seal of his own at hand, he had 
borrowed one for the occasion. The first of the witnesses 
is described as the Abbot of Eufemia.^ This may have been 

1 Probably, seculi, forever; in place of the ordinary phrase imijerpetuum. 

2 Probably one of the family of Payne, which gave to the village of Ack- 
ford in Dorsetshire the name of " Ackford (or "Okeford") Fitz-Pain." 
(Hutchins's Dorsetshire, iii. 351.) 

3 The conjecture seems not altogether inadmissible, that this seal may 
have been that of the Abbot, or of some member of the congregation of St. 



DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 329 

the monastery of some note on the western shores of the 
Calabria, near the town and gulf of Sta. Eufemia, and about 
sixty miles north of the Straits of Messina. It is remarka- 
ble that this place is not far distant from Cosenza, where, 
according to one dreadful tale of the fate of Backet's mur- 
derers, Tracy, having been sentenced with his accomplices, 
by Pope Alexander III., to expiate their crime in the Holy 
Land, had miserably died on his way thither, after confession 
to the bishop of the place.^ 

In regard to the other witnesses, I can only observe that 
Eoger de Acford occurs in the Red Book of the Exchequer, 
as holding part of a knight's fee in the Honor of Barnstaple 
under William Tracy. Payn may have been his son or 
kinsman. Pirforde may have been the place now known 
as Parford, near Moreton Hampstead. The correct reading 
of the name de Tim' may possibly be Tirun. The family 
de Turonibus, settled in early times at Dartington, Devon, 
were connected by marriage with the Tracys. 

The fact that Ti-acy actually set forth on pilgrimage to 
the Holy Land, which some have seemed to question, is 
proved by the following curious letter in one of the Canter- 
bury Registers : — - 

Qualiter Amicia uxor Willelmi Thaiin post mortem viri sul 
terram quam vir ejus dedit Sancto Thome ipsa postea dedit. 

Register in the Canterbury Treasury, 2, fol. 400. 

Viro venerabili et amico in Christo, carissimo domino 
Johanni filio Galfridi, Anselmus Crassus Thesaurarius Exo- 
niensis'^ salutem et paratam ad obsequia cum devocione vo- 
luntatem. Noverit quod quadam die, cum douiinam Ami- 

Eufemia; and that the figure may have represented the Virgin Martyr 
of Chalcedon, a saint greatly venerated in tlie Eastern Church. The re- 
liques of Saint Eufemia were transferred into the Church of St. Sophia at 
Constantinople. 

1 Cosenza is situated about eighteen miles north of Sta. Eufemia. 

2 Anselm Crassus, or Le Gros, was treasurer of Exeter in 1205, and in 
1230 was made Bishop of St. David's. (Le Neve's Fasti, ed. by Hardy, 
i. iU.) 



330 DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 

ciam de la More moi'tiio viro suo Everardo Cliole in manerio 
de Moreth' ^ visitassimus, dixit nobis quod quidain nomine 
Willelmus Thaun vir ejus qui eano duxit in uxorem, cum iter 
arriperet cum domino suo Willelmo de Traci versus terram 
sanctam, earn fecit jurai'e tactis sacrosanctis quod totam 
terram ipsius cum pertinentiis suis, quam dominus ejus 
Willelmus de Tracy ipsi Willelmo Thaun dedit pro homagio 
et servicio suo, beato Thome Martiri et Couventui ecclesie 
Christi Cantuariensis assignaret in perpetuum possidendam : 
defuncto autem predicto W^illelmo Thaun in j^eregrinacione 
terre sancte eadem Amicia alium virum accepit, videlicet 
Everarddum Chole, per quern impedita voluntatem et votum 
primi vii'i sui Willelmi Thaun minime complevit. Volens 
autem dicta Amicia saluti anime sue providei'e in manum 
nostram totam terram Willelmi Thaun resignavit, et Con- 
ventum Ecclesie Christi Cantuariensis per nos pilliolo suo 
seisiavit. Nos vero, conventus dicte ecclesie utilitati secun- 
dum testamentum dicti Willelmi Thaun solicite providere 
curantes, seisinam dicte terre loco ipsius Conventus Cantu- 
ariensis benigne admisimus, et ejusdem teri'e instrumenta 
omnia a dicta Amicia nobis commissa eidem Conventui Can- 
tuariensi restituimus. In cujus rei testimonium fieri fecimus 
presentes literas et sigillo nostro sigillari. 

I have not been able to ascertain who was the " Dominus 
Johannes filius Galfridi" to whom the Treasurer of Exeter 
addressed this communication. If the supposition be cor- 
rect that the transaction relates to certain lands in the par- 
ish of ]\Iorthoe, where the Tracys had considerable property, 
and where William de Tracy is supposed to have resided, at 
Wollacombe Trac}^ the presence of the Treasurer of Exeter 

1 Perhaps Morthoe, where the Tracys liad estates and their residence. 
The word seems to be written " Morecli';" Ijut the letter < is often so formed 
as to be scarcely distinguisliable from a c. In Lyson's Devonshire, a barton, 
named More, is mentioned in the parish of Moreton Hanipstead. It does 
not appear that the manor of Morthoe belonged to the Tracys. The 
manor of Daccombe had the custom of prebend, and the lord of the manor 
is obliged to keep a cucking-stool, for the punishment of scolding women. 
(Lysou's Devonsliire. ) 



DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 331 

and his visit to the hxdy Amicia de la More are in some 
measure exphiined, since the advowson of Morthoe was part 
of the possessions of the church of Exeter. Amicia de la 
More, as it appears, was the wife of a certain William 
Thaun, wiio held land under William de Tracy, and had 
gone with him to the Holy Land.^ Before his departure, 
however, Thaun had caused his wife to swear upon the Gos- 
pels, foreseeing doubtless the uncertainty of his return, that 
she would duly assign over to Saint Thomas and the Convent 
of Christ Church the land above mentioned. On his decease 
in the course of his joui'iiey, Amicia espoused Everard Chole, 
by whose persuasion she neglected to fulfil her oath and the 
will of her deceased husband. On Everard's death, however, 
it appears that she was seized with remorse, and took the 
occasion of the Treasurer's visit to make full confession, and 
to resign into his hands the land held by William Thaun, 
giving the Convent of Christ Church seisin in the person of 
the Treasurer, by delivery of her cap {ijillioluvi) , being the 
object probably most conveniently at hand. By the foregoing 
letters under his seal, Anselm Crassus acknowledges seisin 
of the land for the use of the Convent of Canterbur}', and 
restores to them all instrumenta or documents of titles in- 
trusted to him on their behalf. 

II. — The "Corona be.\ti Thome." (See p. 265.) 

In searching the ancient accounts for any evidence regard- 
ing the shrine, or those parts of the Church of Canterbury 
where the reliques of the saint were chiefly venerated, a few 
particulars have been noticed which suggest the reconsider- 
ation of the origin and true significance of the term Corona, 
" Becket's Crown," as applied to the round chapel and tower 
terminating the eastern part of the church. 

It had been concluded by several writers that this part of 

1 Sir W. Pole give.s " More, of de la More " in his Alphabet of Arms 
of the old Devonshire Gentry. The ancient family of De la Moore, named 
in later times at Moore, had their dwelling at Morehays, iu the parish of 
Columpton. (Pole's Collections, p. 186.) 



332 DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 

the fabric, the construction of which commenced, as we learn 
from Gervase, in 1180, had received this designation from 
the circumstance that the head of the saint had been placed 
there, eastward of his shrine. Matthew Parker, in his " An- 
tiquitates Britannicse Ecclesii^," at the close of his Life of 
Becket, observes that at first Saint Thomas was placed less 
ostentatiously in the crypt : " Deinde sublimiori et excelso 
ac sumptuoso delubro conditus fuerit, in quo caput ejus 
seorsim a cadavere situm, Thoma3 Martyris Corona appella- 
batur, ad quod peregrinantes undique confluerent, munera- 
que preciosa deferrent," etc. Battely, Gostling, Ducarel, 
and Dart speak of " Becket's Crown," and appear to have 
connected the name with the supposed depository of the 
head of the saint, or of the portion of the skull cut off by 
the murderers.^ 

Professor Willis, whose authority must be regarded with 
the greatest i-espect, rejects this supposition. " The no- 
tion," he remarks, " that this round chapel was called Beck- 
et's Crown, because part of his skull was preserved here as 
a relic, appears wholly untenable." He considers the term 
corona as signifying the principal apse of a church, referring 
to a document relating to the Church of La Charitc on the 
Loire, in which the Corona Ecclesie is mentioned.^ Mr. John 

1 Gostling observes (p. 123): " At the east end of the chapel of the Holy 
Trinity, another very handsome one was added, called Becket's Crown; 
some suppose from its tigure being circular and the ribs of the arched i-oof 
meeting iu a centre, as those of the crown royal do; others ou account of 
part of his skull being preserved here as a relic." 

2 Architectural History of Canterbury Cathedral, p. 56, note. The 
learned professor observes that, "at all events, it was a general term, and not 
peculiar to the Church of Canterbury." He cites, however, no other evi- 
dence of its use, except that above mentioned, given amongst the additions 
made by the Benedictines to Ducange's Glossary. " Corona Ecclesice, f. 
Pars Templi choro postica, quod ea pars fere desinat in circulum. Charta 
anni 1170, in Tabulario B. Marife de Charitate : Duo altaria in Corona 
Ecclesice." " The Corona may also mean the aisle which often circum- 
scribes the east end of an apsidal church, and which with its radiating 
chapels may be said to crown its eastern extremity " (p. 141). It is said 
that the eastern apse represents the glory, or " nimbus," at the head of the 
crucifix, as the cruciform shape of the rest of the cathedral represents the 
cross. [But see the passage from Eadmer quoted on p. 336. — A. P. S.] 



DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 333 

Gough Nichols has likewise sought to refute as a " popular 
error, into which many writers have fallen," the i^isconcep- 
tion, which was as old, he remarks, as Archbishop Parker, 
that the head of Saint Thomas was preserved in that part 
of the cathedral called Becket's Crown. ^ 

The earliest mention of the Corona, as I believe, is in the 
Kegisters of Henry de Estria, Prior of Canterbury, in the 
enumeration of the " Nova Opera in Ecclesia " in his times. 
Under the 3'ear 1314 is the entry: "Pro corona sancti 
Thome auro et argento et lapidibus preciosis oruanda, cxv. 
li. xij. s." In the same year the Prior provided a new crest 
of gold for the shrine.^ The same record comprises a list 
of the relics in the cathedral, amongst which are men- 
tioned, "Corpus Sancti Odonis, in feretro, ad coronam versus 
austrum. — Corpus Sancti Wilfridi, in feretro, ad coronam 
versus aquilonem." It seems improbable that this large 
expenditure in precious metals and gems^ should relate 
to the apsidal chapel, according to Professor Willis's expla- 
nation of the term Corona, no portion of the building being- 
specified to which such costly decoration was applied. The 
expression would rather imply, as I conceive, the enrich- 
ment of some precious object, such as a phylacterium scri- 
nium, feretory, or the like, described as " Corona sancti 
Thome." The phrase " ad coronam," moreover, in the list 
of relics, can scarcely, I would submit, signify that the bod- 
ies of Saint Odo and Saint Wilfrid were placed in a build- 
ing or chapel called Corona, but rather implies that they 
were placed adjacent to some object known as Corona, at its 
north and south sides, respectively ; thus also in the context 
we find other reliques placed " ad altare," whilst othei's are 
described as " in navi Ecclesie," etc. 

1 Pilgrimages to Walsingham and Canterbury, p. 119. Mr. Jolin Nich- 
ok, in his Royal Wills, p. 70, adopted the popular opinion. The altar 
where the saint's head was, he remarks, " was probably in that part of the 
cathedral called Becket's Crown." 

2 Register 1. 11, fol. 212, Canterbury Treasury ; Register of Prior Henry, 
Cotton MS., Galba E. IV. 14, fol. 103. 

3 Dart, Appendix, ]i. xlii. 



334 DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 

The Corona, like the shrine, the martirium and tumha, 
was in charge of a special officer, called the "Gustos Corone 
beati Thome ; " and mention also occurs of the " Magister 
Corone," apparently the same official. In a " Book of Ac- 
counts" of one of the officers of the Monastery, preserved 
in the Chapter Library, the following entries occur under 
the head of " Oblaciones cum obvencionibus : " — 

" De Custode Corone beati Thome, xl. s. 

" Denarii recepti pro vino conventus. — Item, de Custodi- 
bus Feretri Sancti Thome, xxx. s. Item, de Custode Corone 
Sancti Thome, xx. s. Item, de Custode Tumbe beati Thome, 
iij.s. iiij.d. Item, de Custode Martirii Sancti Thome, iij. s. 
iiij.d. Item, de Custode beate Marie in cryptis," etc. 30 
Henr. VI. (1451).i 

There wei-e, it appears, three objects of especial venera- 
tion, — the feretrum in the Chapel of the Holy Trinity ; 
the jmnctum ensis, in the Martyrdom ; and the caj^ut beati 
Thome. At each there was an altar. The Black Prince be- 
queathed tapestry to three altars, besides the high altar; 
namely, " I'autier la ou Mons'r Saint Thomas gist, I'autier 
la ou la teste est, I'autier la ou la poynte de I'espie est." 

The authority of Erasmus seems conclusive that the caput 
was shown in the crypt. After inspecting the cicspis gladii 
in the Martyrdom, Erasmus says : "■ Hinc digressi subimus 
cryptoporticum : ea habet suos mystagogos : illic primum 
exhibetur calvaria martyris perforata ; reliqua tecta sunt 
argento, summa cranii pars nuda patet osculo." 

I have been induced to offer these notices from the con- 
viction that the apsidal chapel called Becket's Crown re- 
ceived that name from some precious object connected with 
the cultus of Saint Thomas of Canterbury, or from some pecu- 
liar feature of its decorations. This notion obviously sug- 
gests itself, that such an object may have been the reliquary 

1 MSS. in the Cliapter Library, volume marked E. 6, fol. 33. Amongst 
the few evidences of this nature which have escaped destruction may hn 
mentioned a curious Book of Accounts of William Inggram, Gustos of the 
Martirium, MS. C. 11. It contains much information regarding the books 
in the library of the monastery, and other matters. 



DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 335 

ill which the corona^'^ or upper portion of the cranium, cut off 
by the savage stroke of Richard le Breton, was placed apai't 
from the skull itself. This supposition, however, seems to 
be set aside by the inscription accompanying the drawing 
in Cotton MS. Tib. E, VIII. fol. 286 b, of which an accu- 
rate copy has been given in this volume. The manusci'ipt 
suffered from fire in 1731, and the following words only are 

now legible : " This chest of iron cont bones 

of Thomas Becket all with the wounde , 

. . . and the pece cut " Thus rendered 

on Vaughan's plate, engraved from this drawing when it 
was in a more perfect state (Dugdale, Monast. Angl., i. 18, 
orig. edit., printed in 1655). — " Loculus ille, quem vides fer- 
reum, ossa Tho: Becketti cum calvaria uecnon rupta ilia 
cranii parte quae mortem inferebat complectebatur." ^ 

It has been questioned whether any altar existed in Beck- 
et's Crown. The original stones still remaining on the 
raised platform at this extreme east end of the church still 
present traces of some arrangement which does not appear 
to indicate the position of an altar, but rather of some 
railing, or clausura, which may have protected the object of 
veneration there displayed. Xo clew appears to direct the 
inquiry as to its character, with the exception of the brief 

1 Corona properly designated the circle of hair left on the priest's head by 
the tonsure. " Fit corona ex rasiira in snnimitate capitis, et tonsione ca- 
pillorum in parte capitis inferiore, et sic circulus capillorum proprie dicitur 
corona." — Ltndwood. "The hair was shorn from the top of the head, 
more or less wide, according as tlie wearer happened to be high or low 
in order." — Dr. Rock's Church of our Fathers, i. 187. The word is 
nsed in the accounts of Becket's murder to describe the upper part of the 
skull, or brain-pan. Thus Fitzstephen says : " Corona capitis tota ei am- 
putata est ; " and he describes the savage act of Hugh de Horsea, — "a con- 
cavitate coronae amputatre cum mucrone cruorem et cerebrum extrahebat. " 
(Ed. Sparkes, p. 87.) Diceto states that Becket received his death-wound 
" in corona capitis." (Ang. Sacra, ii. 691.) 

2 On comparing this drawing with Stow's account of the removal of 
Becket's Shrine, it seems almost certain that this hcvlu.t ferrreus, shoAvn 
with the slirine in the Cotton MS., was the " chest of yron coutej-ning the 
bones of Thomas Becket, skull and all, with the wounde of his death, and 
the peece cut out of his scull layde in the same wound." This chest is dis- 
tinctly said by Stow to have been within the shrine. (See p. 268.) 



336 DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 

notice of Erasmus, who seems to allude to Becket's Crown 
when speaking of the upper church behind the high altar : 
" Illic in sacello qnodam ostenditur tota facies optimi viri 
inaurata, multisque gemrais insignita." May not this have 
been an image of Saint Thomas, or one of those gorgeously 
enriched busts, of life size, covered with precious metals and 
richly jewelled, — a class of reliquaries of which remarkable 
examples still exist in many continental churches 1 Such a 
reliquary existed in 1295 at St. Paul's, London, and is de- 
scribed in an inventory given by Dugdale as " Capud S. 
Athelberti Eegis in capsa argentea deaurata, facta ad mo- 
dum capitis Regis cum corona continente in circulo xvi. 
lapides majores," etc. 

In conclusion, I will only invite attention to the prob- 
ability that a capsa of this description, highly suitable to 
receive so remarkable a relique as the corona of Becket's 
skull separate from the other remains of the saint, may have 
been displayed in the apsidal chapel thence designated 
" Becket's Crown." If it be sought to controvert such a 
supposition by the conflicting evidence of the Cotton MS. of 
Erasmus's Colloquy, or of Stow's Annals, it can only be said 
that it is as impracticable to reconcile such discrepancies as 
to explain the triple heads of Saint John the Baptist. The 
royal Declaration of 1.539 records that Becket's "head almost 
hole was found with the rest of the bones closed within the 
shryne, and that there was in that church a great skull of 
another head, but much greater by three-quarter parts than 
that part which was lacking in the head closed within the 
shi'yne." [A passage has been pointed out to me in Ead- 
mer's Hist. Nov., ii. 92, where, describing the difficulty of 
determining the place of the Aixhbishop of Canterbury 
(Anselm) then for the first time appearing in a Roman 
coiancil, he says, " in corond sedes illi posita est, qui locus 
non obscuri honoris in tfili conventu solet haberi." This 
confirms Professor Willis's view. — A. P. S.] 



DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 337 

III. — Miraculous Cures at the Shrine of St. Thomas. 
(See pp.226, 295.) 

The contemporary writers are diffuse in the enumeration 
of the maladies for which a remedy was sought by multi- 
tudes from the reliques of Saint Thomas, and the miracles 
effected. Gervase states that two volumes of such miracles 
were extant at Canterbury. 

Having been favored with unusual facilities of access to the 
ancient registers and evidences preserved in the Treasury/ 
in searching for materials which might throw light upon the 
subjects to which this volume relates, I have been surprised 
at the extreme paucity of information regarding Becket, or 
any part of the church specially connected with the venera- 
tion shown towards him. Scarcely is an item to be found 
in the various liolls of Account making mention of Saint 
Thomas ; and where his name occurred, it has for the most 
part been carefully erased. With the exception of certain 
Papal Bulls, and some communication regarding Canterbury- 
Jubilees, the name is scarcely to be found in the long series 
of registers. We seek in vain for any schedule of the ac- 
cumulated wealth which surrounded his shrine : even in the 
long inventory of plate and vestments left in 1540 by the 
Commissioners after the surrender, " till the king's pleasure 
be further declared," and subscribed by Cranmer's own 
hand, the words " Storye of Thomas Beket," in the descrip- 
tion of a piece of emln-oidered velvet, are blotted out. It is 
remarkable to notice the pains bestowed on the destruction 
of everything which might revive any memory of the saint. 

The following extracts from the registers have appeared 
to claim attention, because they are the only records of their 
class which have been found. A royal letter is not without 
intei-est, whatever may be its subject; and it is remarkable 

1 It is with much gratification that I would record the acknowledgment 
of the kindness of the Very Rev. the Dean Lyall, the Ven. Archdeacon 
Harrison, and of other members of the Chapter, in the liberal permission to 
prosecute my investigation of these valuable materials for local and general 
history. — A. W. 

22 



338 DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 

to find Richard 11. congratulating tlie Primate on the good 
influence anticipated from a fresh miracle at the Shrine of 
Becket, in counteracting the doctrine of Wyclifte, or the 
perilous growth of Lollardism. The subject of the miracle 
appears to have been a foreigner, probably of distinction ; 
but I found no clew to identify who the person may have 
been. 

The second of these documents appears to be a kind of 
encyclical certificate of a noted cure miraculously efiected in 
the person of a young Scotchman, Alexander, son of Stephen 
of Aberdeen ; and it is remarkable as showing the widely 
spread credence in the efficacy of a pilgrimage to St. Thomas, 
and the singular formality with which it was thought expe- 
dient to authenticate and publish the miracle. 

This document, moreover, states that Saint Thomas having 
(with the succor of Divine clemency) restored to the said 
Alexander the nse of liis feet, he proceeded, in pursuance of 
his vow, to the Holy Blood of Wilsnake, and returned safe 
and sound to the shrine of the Martyr. I am not aware that 
mention has been made by English writers of the celebrated 
relique formerly preserved at Wilsnake, in Prussia ; and, al- 
though not connected with Canterbury, a brief account of 
the origin of this pilgrimage, which appears to have been 
much in vogue in our own countr}', may not be inadmissible 
in these notes. I am indebted to the learned biographer of 
Alfred, Dr. Pauli, for directing my attention to Wilsnake 
and the curious legend of the Holy Blood. 

Wilsnack, or Wilsnake, is a small town in the north part 
of the Mark of Brandenbui-g.-^ In a time of popular commo- 
tion, in 1383, the town, with its church, was burned. The 
priest, Crantzius relates, having been recalled by a vision to 
perform Mass in the ruined fabric, found the altar standing, 
the candles upon it, and between them, in a napkin or cor- 
poral, three consecrated hosts, united into one and stained 
with blood. Another account states that searching amongst 

1 An account of Wilsnack is given by Steiizel, in his " Geschichte des 
Preussischen Staats," i. 175. 



DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 339 

the ashes near the altar, he discovered the bleeding wafers. 
The priest hastened to his diocesan, the Bishop of Havel - 
berg : he came with his clergy and certified this miracle, 
which was forthwith proclaimed far and near. Before the 
close of the century innumerable pilgrims visited the place, 
kings and princes sent costly gifts, and Pope Urban VI. pro- 
mulgated indulgences to the faithful who repaired thither. ^ 
From all quarters, says Crantzius, votaries came in crowds, 
— from Hungary, France, England, Scotland, Denmark, 
Sweden, Norway. The fame of the relique may have quickly 
spread to our own island, as M. Pauli observes, througb 
the numerous English knights who about that time trav- 
ersed the North of Europe to join the Teutonic knights in 
Prussia. 

The miracle, it is alleged, soon engrossed so much atten- 
tion that neighboring churches where noted reliques were pre- 
served became neglected. Inquiry was instituted ; and the 
Archbishop of Prague sent a deputy to investigate the mat- 
ter, — no less a person than John Huss, who with the fear- 
less spirit of the Reformer exposed the abuses practised at 
Wilsnake. He wrote a remarkable treatise on superstitions 
of the same nature in various places.^ In 1400 the learned 
Wunschebergius also assailed the feigned miracles of Wil- 
snake, and an eminent canon of Magdeburg put forth a phi- 
lippic against the prelate who tolerated such pious frauds 
for lucre's sake. It was, however, of no avail ; the Bishop 

1 Leaden signs, or signacula, representing the bleeding wafers, were dis- 
tributed to pilgrims in like manner as the amjmUcc of Saint Thomas, or the 
mitred heads, — tokens of their journey to Canterlrary, as mentioned in this 
volume (pp 272, 274). Several signs of Saint Thomas are represented in 
Mr. Roach Smith's Collectanea, i. 83, ii. 46-49. 

2 The " Holy Blood " of our Lord was believed to exist in various places, 
of which Mantua was the most celebrated. M. Paris relates that Henry IH. 
presented to the monks of Westminster in 1247 some of the blood shed at 
the crucifixion, which he had received from the Master of the Templars. 
The Earl of Cornwall gave a portion to Hayles Abbey, — a relique much 
celebrated, and to which allusion is made by Chaucer. He gave a portion to 
the College of Eons Hommes at Ashridge, near to Berkhampstead. It was 
exhibited by the Bishop of Rochester, at Paul's Cross, in 1538, and proved 
to be honey colored with saffron. 



340 DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 

of Havelberg sustained his suit at Rome with energy ; the 
Papal approbation was renewed ; the credit of the Holy 
Blood was confirmed by the Councils of Constance and Basle. 

In the sixteenth century Matthew Ludecus, Dean of Ha- 
velberg, compiled the history of this superstition. There 
was, he relates, a large balance suspended in the church of 
Wilsnake. In one scale it was usual to place the pilgrim 
who sought remission of his offences ; in the other were 
piled his oblations, bread and flesh, perhaps cheese, or other 
homely off'erings. If the visitor seemed wealthy, no impres- 
sion was made on the beam ; the priest affirming that indeed 
he must be a grievous offender, whose crimes could not be 
expiated without more valuable oblations. At length, by 
some secret contrivance, the scale was permitted to fall.-^ 

Huss has narrated a characteristic anecdote of the miracu- 
lous fallacies of Wilsnake. A citizen of Prague, Petrziko 
de Ach, affected with a withered arm, offered a silver hand, 
and desiring to discover what the priests would put forth 
concerning his costly gift, he tarried till the third day, and 
repaired unnoticed to the church. As it chanced, the priest 
was in the pulpit, declaiming to the assembled votaries, " Au- 
dite pueri miraculum ! " — " Behold, a citizen of Prague has 
been healed by the Holy Blood, and see here how he hath 
offered a silver hand in testimony of his cure ! " But the 
sufferer, standing up, with arm upraised, exclaimed, " Oh, 
priest, what falsehood is this 1 Behold my hand, still with- 
ered as before ! " " Of this," observes Huss, " his friends 
and kinsmen at Prague are witnesses to this day." 

It was only in 1551 that Joachim Elfeldt, becoming pastor 
of the church, being imbued with the Reformed faith, put 
an end to the superstition, and committed the wafers to 
the flames. The canons of Havelberg, indignant that their 
gains were gone, threw him into prison, and sought to bring 
him to the stake ; but he was rescued by the Elector of 
Brandenburg. A. W. 

1 A curious woodcut represeuting this proceeding is given by Wolfius, in 
his " Lectiones Memorabiles," p. 619. 



DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 341 

Litera domini Regis graciosa missa domino archiepiscopo, 
regraciando sibi de novo miraculo Sancti Thome Martiris 
sibi denunciato.^ {Circa a. d. 1393, tenij). Eich. II.) 

Register of Christ Church, Canterbury, R. 19, fol. 15. 

Tresreverent piere en dieu et nostro treschei* Cosyn, nous 
vous saloioms tresovent denter coer, vous ensauntz savoir qe 
a la fesaunce de cestes noz lettres nous estoioms en bone 
sancte, merciez ent soit nostre seignour, et avoms tresgraunt 
desyr de trestout nostre coer davoir de vous soveut novelles 
semblables, des quex vous priomos (sic) cherement qacercer 
nous vuillez de temps en temps an pluis sovent qe vous 
purrez bonement pur nostre graunt confort et singuler ple- 
saunce. Si vous mercioms trescher Cosyn tresperfitement 
de coer de voz lettres, et avons presentement envoyez, et par 
especial quen si bref nous avetz certefiez du miracle quore 
tarde avint en vostre esglise au seynt feretre du glorious 
martir Seint Tliomas, et avoms, ce nous est avis tresgrant et 
excellente cause et nous et vous de ent mercier lui haut 
soverayn mostre (1) des miracles, qui ceste miracle ad pleu 
monstrer en noz temps, et en une persone estraunge, sicome 
pur extendre as parties estraungez et lointeines la gloriouse 
deisou ^ verray martyr susdit. Nous semble parmi ce qe 
nous sumes treshautemens tenuz de luy loer et ent rendre 
merciz et graciz, et si le voiloms faire parmi sa grace de 
nostre enter poer sauntz feintise ; especialment vous enpri- 
auntz qe paraillement de vostre fait le vuillez faire a honour 
de luy de qui sourde tout bien et honour, et au bone exam- 
ple de touz noz subgestez. Et verramient treschier Cosyn 
nous avoms tresperfit espiraunce qen temps de nous et 
de vous serront noz noblez et seyntes predecessours pluis 
glorifiez qe devant longe temps nont estez, dont le cause 

1 This letter was written, as may be supposed from the place in which it 
is found in the Register, and the dates of documents accompanying it, aboxit 
A. D. 1393. If this conjecture be correct, it was addressed by Richard TI. to 
William Courtenay, Archbishop of Canterbury from 1381 to 1396. 

2 Tliis passage is apparently incomplete, or incorrectly copied into the 
Register. The sense may, however, be easily gathered from tha context. 



342 DOCUMENTS IN THE CANTERBURY TREASURY. 

verisemblable qe nous moeve est celle quen noz temps, ceste 
assavoir de present, noz foie et creauuce oiint plusours 
enemys qe de temps hors de memorie navoient, les quex par 
la mei'cie de mercie (sic) de Jhesu Crist et ces gloriousez 
miracles serount a ce qe nous creouns de lour crroure con- 
vertyz a voie de salue ; celui dieu de sa haute puissaunce 
lottroie a la glorie de luy et de toutz seyntz, et la salvacioun 
de soeu poeple universele. Trescher Cosyn de vous vouellez, 
et de tout quamque vous vorrez auxi devers vous nous cer- 
tefiez pur nostre amour, sacbauntz qe nous vorroms tres- 
volunters faire tout ce qa honour vous purra touruer et 
plesir. Et le seyut esprit vou eit en sa garde. Done souz 
nostre signet, a nostre Chastelle de Corf, le vij. jour daugst. 

De quodam miraculo ostenso ad feretrum beati Tliome Can- 
tuarieusis. Litera Testimonialis (a. d. 1445). 

Register of Christ Church, Canterbur)/, E. 19, fol. 163. 

Universis sancte matris ecclesie filiis ad quos presentes 
litere nostre pervenerint, Johannes permissione divina prior 
Ecclesie Christi Cantuariensis,^ et ejusdem loci Capitulum, 
Salutem et semper in domino gloriari. Cum fidelis quilibet 
Christicola divine majestatiscultor de mirifica Dei clemencia 
gloriari et mente extolli tenetur, apostolica sic dictnnte sen- 
tentia, " Qui gloriatur in domini glorietur," ^ in Dei laudis 
magnificenciam ore et mente undique provocamur, turn 
immensis operibus suis operator est semper Deus mirabilis 
et in sanctonim suorum miraculis coruscans gloriosus. 
Unde, cum nuper in nostra sancta tocius Anglie raetropoli 
novum et stnpendum per divine operacionis clemenciam in 
meritis sancti martiris Thome Cantuariensis experti sumus 
miraculum, Deum laudare et ejus potenciam glorificare ob- 
ligamur, quam totus orbis terrarum ympnis et laudibus 
devote laudare non cessat. Nam cum Allexander Stephani 
filius in Scocia, de Aberdyn oppido natus, pedibus contractus 

1 John Salisbury, who became Prior in 1437, and died in 1446. 

2 1 Cor. i. 31. 



CRESCENT IN THE ROOF OF TRINITY CHAPEL. 343 

vigintiquatuor annis ab ortu suo penaliter laborabat,-^ ad 
instanciam cujusdam matrone votum ad Feretrum sancti 
Thome eaiittens, per grandia laboruin vehicula cum cetero- 
rum impoteucium iiistrumentis, supra genua debilia ad fere- 
trum predictum perveuit, ibique beatus Thomas, divina 
opitulante clemencia, secundo die mensis Mail proximi ante 
datum presentium, bases et plantas eidem Allexandro ilico 
restituit. Et in voti sui deinde complementum ad sangui- 
nem sanctum de Wilsnake, divino permittente auxilio, sanus 
et firmus adiit, et in martiris sui Thome merito ad feretrum 
illius prospere revenit. Nos igitur, divine majestatis gloriam 
sub ignorancie tenebris hititare nolentes, sed super fidei tec- 
tum predicare affectantes, ut Christi cunctis fideUbus valeat 
nndique coruscare, ea que de jure ad probacionem requiren- 
tur miraculi, sub Sacramento dicti Allexandri necnon aliorum 
fide dignorum de oppido predicto, videlicet Allexander Ai-at 
generosi, Robertique filii David, et Johannis Thome filii, 
legitime comprobato, in nostra sancta Cantuariensi ecclesia 
fecimus solempniter publicari. Unde universitati supplica- 
mus literas per presentes quatinus dignetis Deum laudare 
de (]) sancto martire ejus Thoma Cantuariensi, in cnjus 
meritis ecclesiam suam unicam sibi sponsam in extirpacio- 
nem heresum et errorum variis miraculis pluribus decursis 
temporibus mirifice hucusque decoravit. In cujus rei testi- 
monium, &c. Dat' Cantuaria in domo nostra Capitulari, 
xxvij."° die Mensis Julii, Anno Domini Millesimo ccc"'°. xlv**. 



NOTE G. 



THE CRESCENT IN THE ROOF OF CANTERBURY 
CATHEDRAL. (See p. 266.) 

The Crescent in the roof of Canterbury Cathedral, above 
the Shrine of Becket, has given rise to much perplexity. 

1 Amongst, the miraculous cures obtained by pilgrims, Fitzstepheii spe- 
cially mentions " contractis membrorum linea menta extensa et directa 
sunt.'' (Vita S. Thome, ed. Sparkes, p. 90.) 



344 CRESCENT IN THE ROOF OF TRINITY CHAPEL. 

One obvious solution has often been songht in the compara- 
tively modern legend of Becl^et's Saracen mother. Another 
theory has referred the crescent to the cultus of the Vir- 
gin, who is often rej)resented (in allusion to Rev. xii. 1) as 
standing on the moon. The emblem, it is thought, might 
have been appropriate in this place, both as occupying the 
usual site of the Lady Chapel and as containing the tomb 
of one who considered himself under her special patronage. 
A third conjecture supposes the crescent to have been put 
up by the Crusaders in reference to the well-known title of 
Becket, "Saint Thomas of Acre" and to the success which his 
intercession was su^iposed to have achieved in driving the 
Saracens out of that fortress. If so, it possesses more than 
a local interest, as a proof that the crescent was already the 
emblem of the Seljukiau Turks, long before the capture of 
Constantinople, which is assigned by Von Hammer as the date 
of the assumption of the Crescent by the Turkish power. 

In confirmation of this last view are subjoined the follow- 
ing interesting remarks of Mr. George Austin, founded on 
actual inspection : — 

" Much difficulty has been found in attempting to account 
for the presence of this crescent in the roof of the Trinity 
Chapel. Even if the legend of Becket's mother had obtained 
credence at that eai'ly period, it may be observed that in 
the painted windows around, no reference is made to the 
subject, though evidently capable of so much pictorial ef- 
fect. But there are other difficulties which suggest another 
interpretation. 

" I have always believed it to have been one of a number 
of trophies which, in accordance with a well-known custom 
of the time, once adorned this part of the cathedral ; and I 
have been governed by the following reasons : First, that 
more than one fresco painting of encounters with the East- 
tern infidels formerly ornamented the walls (the last traces 
of which were removed during the restoration of the cathe- 
dral under Dean Percy, afterwards Bishop of Carlisle), and 
in one of which the gi'een crescent flag of the enemy seems 



CRESCENT IN THE EOOF OF TRINITY CHAPEL. 345 

borne away by English archers. Might not these fres- 
cos have depicted the fights in which these trophies were 
won ] Secondly, that when the groined roof was relieved of 
the long-accumulated coats of whitewash and repaired, some 
six-and-thirty years since, the crescent was taken down and 
i-e-gilt. It was found to be made of a foreign wood, some- 
what like in grain to the eastern wood known by the name 
of iron-wood. It had been fastened to the groining by a 
large nail of very singular shape, with a large square head, 
apparently of foreign manufacture. 

" In the hollows of the groining which radiate from the 
crescent were a number of slight iron staples (the eyes of 
which were about 1| inch in diameter) driven into the 
ceiling, and about 12 inches farther from the crescent were 
a number of other staples about the same diameter, but 
projecting 4 or 5 inches from the ceiling; many of these had 
been removed, and all bore traces of violence, x^ow, if the 
use of these staples could be accurately defined, it would, I 
think, demonstrate the origin of the crescent. They could 
only have been used, I think, either to attach to the ceil- 
ing the cords by which the wood canopy of the shrine was 
raised, or to suspend the lamps which doubtless were hung 
around the shrine below, or else to suspend trophies of 
which the crescent was the centre. But I believe there is 
little doubt that the shrine was not placed immediately be- 
neath the centre of these rings of staples, but more to the 
westward. But if not so placed, the canopy was doubtless 
raised by a pulley attached to the ceiling by one cord, and 
not by a web of upwards of twenty ; and in addition to this, 
the staples were attached so slightly to the roof that they 
would not even have borne the weight of a cord alone, of the 
length sufficient to reach the pavement. And it does not 
seem likely that small lamps singly suspended from the 
groining would have been arranged in two small concentric 
circles, the inner only 2 J feet' in diameter, and the exterior 
but 4|, Had this form been desired, the ancient form of 
chandelier would have been adopted. 



346 CRESCENT IN THE ROOF OF TRINITY CHAPEL. 

" These staples, then, could not have been used for those 
purposes ; but it will be seen that they are singularlj^ well 
adapted for displaying some such trophy as a flag or spear, 
for which no great strength was requisite ; and the posi- 
tion and peculiar form of the staples favor the supposition, 
as the diagram shows, A being the short staple and B the 
long one. 



■'S^"^ 




" According to this view, the crescent would have formed 
the appropriate centime of a circle of flags^ horsetails, etc., 
in the manner attempted to be shown in the following 
sketch." 




CURES AT THE SHRINE OF ST. THOMAS. 347 



NOTE H. 

THE MIRACLES OF BECKET, AS REPRESENTED IN 
THE PAINTED WINDOWS OF THE TRINITY CHAPEL 
IN CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL. (See pp. 226, 311.) 

The space left between the slender groups of pillars 
round the Trinity Cliapel has been so entirely filled with 
windows, that it appears like a single zone of light, and the 
effect must have been magnificent when every window was 
filled with painted glass. 

Of these, unfortunately, but three remain ; but they are 
sufficient to attest their rare beauty, and for excellence of 
drawing, harmony of coloring, and purity of design, are 
justly considered unequalled. The skill with which the mi- 
nute figures are represented cannot even at this day be 
surpassed : it is extraordinary to see how every feeling of 
joy or sorrow, pain and enjoyment, is expressed both in fea- 
ture and position ; and even in the representation of the 
innumerable ills and diseases which were cured at the Mar- 
tyr's Shrine, in no single case do we meet with any offence 
against good taste, by which the eye is so frequently shocked 
in the cathedrals of Bourges, Troyes, and Chartres, But in 
nothing is the superiority of these windows shown more than 
in the beautiful scrolls and borders which surround the win- 
dows, and gracefully connect the groups of medallions. 

Unfortunately, the windows throughout the cathedral, 
besides the effects of the decree of Henry VIII. (mentioned 
on page 295), were, during the troubles of the Civil Wars, 
destroyed as high as a man could reach up with a pike, at 
which time every figure of a priest or bishop was relentlessly 
broken. These windows, like everything else around, seem 
to have aided in paying homage to the saint, .upon whose 
shrine their tinted shadows fell. They were filled Avith 
illustrations of the mii-acles said to have been performed by 
the saint after his death. Three, as has been said, still 



348 CURES AT THE SHRINE OF ST. THOMAS. 

remuin, and fragments of others are scattered through the 
building.^ 

As these windows were very similar in arrangement, it 
will be sufficient to describe one of them, that towards the 
east on the north of the shrine. 

The space of this window has been divided into geomet- 
ric patterns, each pattern consisting of a group of nine 
medallions ; and each of these groups has contained the illus- 
tration of one or more of the most important miracles said 
to have been performed at the shrine of the saint. 

This window has at some time been taken down, and 
the lights or medallions replaced without the slightest re- 
gard to their proper position, and the groups of subjects are 
separated and intermixed throughout the windows. 

The lower group of medallions has been filled by illus- 
trations of a miracle, described by Benedict,^ where a child is 
miraculously restored to life by means of the saint's blood 
mixed with water, after having been drowned in the Med- 
way, — the body having been hours in the water. Unfortu- 
nately, but three of these medallions have escaped. In the 
first medallion the boys are seen upon the banks of the Med- 
way pelting the frogs in the sedges along the stream with 
stones and sticks, whilst the son is falling into the stream. In 
the next his companions are shown relating the accident, with 
hurried gestures, to his parents at the door of their house. 
And in the third we are again taken to the banks of the 
stream, where the parents stand gazing in violent grief upon 
the body of their son, which is being extracted from the 
water by a servant. The landscape in these medallions is 
exceedingly well rendered ; the trees are depicted with great 
grace. 

In the next group was portrayed a miracle, or rather 
succession of miracles. [The story, which is graphically 

1 A group representing the Martyrdom remains in the window of the 
south transept of Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford. Becket's head lias 
been removed. — A. P. S. 

2 Benedicti de Miraeulis S. Thomre Cantuar., iii. Gl. See pp. 69, 260. 



CURES AT THE SHRINE OF ST. THOMAS. 349 

told by Benedict, is as follows : " The household of a dis- 
tinguished knight, Jordan, son of Eisulf, was struck with 
sickness. Amongst others died, first, the nurse of his son, 
and then the son himself, a boy of ten years old. ]\Iass was 
«aid, — the body laid out, — the parents were in hoj^eless 
grief It so happened that there arrived, that day, a band 
of twenty pilgrims from Canterbury, whom Joi'dan hospita- 
bly lodged, from old atfection's sake of the JNIartyr, whom he 
had intimately known. The arrival of the pilgrims recalled 
this friendship, — and ' his heart,' he said, ' assured him so 
positively of the Martyr's repugnance to the death of his 
son,' that he would not allow the body to be buried. From 
the pilgrims he borrowed some of the diluted water so often 
mentioned, and bade the priest pour it into the boy's mouth. 
This was done without effect. He then himself uncovered 
the body, raised the head, forced open the teeth with a knife, 
and poured in a small draught. A small spot of red showed 
itself on the left cheek of the boy. A third draught was 
poured down the throat. The boy opened one eye and said, 
' Why are you weeping. Father 1 Why are you crying, 
Lady ] The blessed Martyr Thomas has restored me to 
you.' He was then speechless till evening. The father put 
into his hands four pieces of silver, to be an offering to the 
JNIartyr before Mid-lent, and the parents sat and watched 
him. At evening he sat up, ate, talked, and was restored, 

" But the vow was forgotten, and on this a second series of 
wonders occurred. A leper three miles off was roused from 
his slumber by a voice calling him by name, * Guirp, why 
sleepest thou 1 ' He rose, asked who called him, — was told 
that it was Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury, and that he 
must go and warn the knight Jordan, son of Eisulf, of the 
evils that would befall him unless he instantly fulfilled his 
vow. The leper, after some delay and repetitions of the 
vision, sent for the priest ; the priest refused to convey so 
idle a tale. Saint Thomas appeared again, and ordered the 
leper to send his daugliter for the knight and his wife. 
They came, heard, wondered, and fixed the last week in Lent 



350 CURES AT THE SHRINE OF ST. THOMAS. 

for the performance of the vow. Unfortunately, a visit from 
the Lord Warden put it out of their heads. On the last day 
of the last week — that is, ou Easter-eve — they were sud- 
denly startled by the illness of the eldest son, which ter- 
minated fatally on the Friday after Easter. The parents 
fell sick at the same time, and no less than twenty of the 
household. The knight and his wife were determined at all 
hazard to accomplish their vow. By a violent effort, — aided 
by the sacred water, — they set off; the servants by a like 
exertion dragging themselves to the gate to see them depart. 
The lady fell into a swoon no less than seven times from the 
fatigue of the first day ; but at the view of the towers of 
Canterbury Cathedral she dismounted, and with her husband 
and son, barefoot, walked for the remaining three miles into 
Canterbury, and then the vow was discharged." 

This story, Benedict says, he received in a private letter 
from tlie priest.-^ — A. P. S.] 

In the first compartment we see the funeral of the nurse. 
The body, covered by a large yellow pall, is borne on a bier 
carried by four men. At the head walks the priest, clothed 
in a white close-fitting robe, adorned with a crimson chasu- 
ble, bearing in his right hand a book, and in his left the 
brush for sprinkling holy water. He is followed by a sec- 
ond priest, in a green dress, bearing a huge lighted taper ; 
the legend at foot runs thus : Nutricis funus reliquis sid 
jlacra minatur. The next medallion represents the son at 
the point of death stretched on a bier. The priest at the 
head anoints the body with holy water, and on the forehead 
of the child is the Viaticum, or Sacred Wafer. On a raised 
bench at the side sits the mother, absorbed in deep grief, and 
by her side the father, wringing his hands and gazing sor- 
rowfully at his expiring child ; the legend attached is, Per- 
cnt'itur i:>uer moritur ^ilanctus geminatur. In the next com- 
partment of the group the mother stands at the head of the 
bier, raising and supporting her son's head, whilst the father 
pours between the clinched lips the wonder-working blood 
1 Benedict, iii. 62. 



CURES AT THE SHRINE OF ST. THOMAS. 351 

and water of St. Thomas. A short distance from the bier 
stand the pilgrims, reverently gazing upon the scene, each 
with his pilgrim's staff and bottle of " water of St. Thomas ; " 
the legend at foot runs, Vox patris — vis martiris iit resti- 
tuatur. The vow so fatally delayed forms the subject of the 
next medallion. The boy is still reclining on the bier ; the 
mother is caressing her son with one hand, whilst with the 
other outstretched she gives to the father the Quatuor 
argenteos, which he demands, and vows to the saint. 

The neighboring compartment shows the son upon a 
couch, fast recovering, feeding himself with a spoon and 
basin. The parents are placed at each end of the couch in 
an attitude of thanksgiving. The following cartoon shows 
the old man struck with leprosy and bedridden. The Mar- 
tyr, dressed in full robes, stands at the bedside, and charges 
him with the warning to the parents of the child not to 
neglect the performance of the vow. In the next portion of 
the group the leper is represented in bed, conveying to the 
parents, who stand in deep attention at the bedside, the 
warning with which he has been chai'ged by Saint Thomas. 
The leprosy of the sick man is very curioiisly shown ; the 
legend, Creduhis accedis . . . vot . . . fert nee ohedit. And 
now, forming the central medallion of the group, and the 
most important, is depicted the vengeance of the saint 
for the slighted vow and neglected warning. In the centre 
of a large apartment stands a bier, on which is stretched 
the victim of the saint's wrath. At the head and feet of 
the corpse, leaning on large chairs or thrones, are the father 
and mother, distracted with gi'ief, the latter with uncovered 
head and naked feet gazing with deep despondency on her 
dead child. Behind the bier are seen several figures in un- 
usually violent attitudes expressive of grief, from which cir- 
cumstance they are probably professional mourners ; whilst 
imseen by the persons beneath, the figure of Saint Thomas 
in full pontificals is appearing through the ceiling. He 
bears in his right hand a sivord, and points with his left to 
the dead body of the victim upon the bier. It is singular 



332 CURES AT THE SHRINE OF ST. THOMAS. 

that Becket is always represented in full episcopal costume, 
when appearing in dreams or visions, in these windows. The 
legend attached to this light is, Viiidicte moles — Domus 
egra — viortiia p'>'oles. 

The last medallion of the group represents the final ac- 
complishment of the vow. The father is seen bending rev- 
erently before the altar of the saint, offering to the attend- 
ant priest a large bowl filled with broad gold and silver 
pieces. Kear him is the mother, holding by the hand the 
son miraculously recalled to life. In token of their pilgrim- 
age, both the mother and son hold the usual staves. The 
expression of the various figures in the above compartments, 
both in gesture and feature, is rendered with great skill. 
In the execution of this story the points which doubtless 
the artists of the monastery were chiefly anxious to impress 
upon the minds of the devotees who thronged to the shrine 
are prominently brought out : the extreme danger of delay- 
ing the performance of a vow, \inder whatever circumstances 
made ; the expiation sternly required by the saint ; and the 
satisfaction with which the Martyr viewed money offerings 
made at his shrine. 

The fulness with which the last group has been described 
will render it less necessary to speak at length of the rest 
of the window, as similar miracles described by Benedict 
are in the same minute manner represented. 

The group above should consist of two miracles, — the 
first described by Benedict,^ wherein Robert, a smith from 
the Isle of Thanet, is miraculously cured of blindness. In 
a dream he is directed by Becket to repair to Canterbury, 
where a monk should anoint his eyes and restore his sight ; 
and he is seen stretched in prayer at the priest's feet in 
front of the altar. In another medallion the priest anoints 
his eyes with the miraculous blood, and his sight is restored. 
In another, Robert is seen offering at the altar a large bowl 
of golden pieces, in gratitude for the saint's interference. 

The next group proves that not only offerings and prayers 
1 Benedict, i. 36. 



CURES AT THE SHRINE OF ST. THOMAS. 353 

were made at the shrine, but also severe penances were per- 
formed. In one compartment a kneeling female figure is 
bowing herself to the ground before the priest at the altar, 
who is receiving a large candle apparently offered by her, 
holding a book in his left hand, whilst two men, armed 
with long rods, stand by. In the next medallion the female 
figure is being violently beaten by the two men Avith the 
rods, one of whom stands on either side of her. 

In the third, though the woman is falling fainting to 
the gi'ouud, one of the figures is still striking her with the 
scourge. The other figure is addressing the priest, who is 
sitting unmoved by the scene, reading from the book ; a 
figure is standing by with a pilgrim's staff, looking at the 
flagellation, much concerned. A legend is attached, Stat 
modo jocunda lapsa jacet vioribunda. 

In the other two windows may be traced many of the 
multifarious miracles described by Benedict, and by him 
thus summed up : ^ " Qufe est enim in Ecclesia conditio, 
quis sexus vel a^tas, quis gradus vel ordo, qui non in hoc 
thesauro nostro aliquid sibi utile inventiat 1 Administratur 
huic schismaticis lumen veritatis, pastoribus timidis con- 
fidentia, sanitas tegrotantibus, et psenitentibus veniat ejus 
meritis coeci vident, claudi ambulabunt, leprosi mundantur, 
surdi audiunt, mortui resurgunt, loquuntur muti, pauperes 
evangelizantur, paralytici convalescunt, detumescunt hodro- 
pici, sensui redonautur amentes, curantur epileptici, feb- 
ricitantes evadunt, et ut breviter coucludatur, omuimoda 
curatur infirmitas." 

G. A. 
1 Benedict, i. 2. 



23 



364 BECKET'S SHRINE IN PAINTED WINDOW. 



NOTE I. 

REPRESENTATION OF BECKET'S SHRINE IN ONE OF 
THE PAINTED WINDOWS IN CANTERBURY CATHE- 
DRAL. (See p. 264.) 

The accompanying view of the Shrine of Eecket is en- 
graved from a portion of a painted glass window of the thir- 
teenth century, on the north side of the Trinity Chapel in 
Canterbury Cathedral. It is one of a group of medallions 
representing a vision described by Benedict ^ as having been 
seen by himself. Becket is here shown issuing from his shrine 
in full pontificals to go to the altar as if to celebrate Mass. 
The monk to whom the vision appears is lying in the fore- 
ground on a couch. The shrine, by a slight anachronism, is 
represented as that erected subsequently to the vision ; and 
this repi'esentation is the more valuable as being the only 
one known to exist ; ^ for there can be little doubt that the 
drawing in the Cottonian MS. does not attempt to represent 
the shrine, but only the outside covering or case. The me- 
dallion is the more interesting from being an undoubted 
■work of the thirteenth century ; and having been designed 
for a position immediately opposite to and within a few 
j-ards of the shrine itself, and occupying the place of honor 
in the largest and most important window, without doubt 
represents the main features of the shrine faithfully. 

The view will be found to tally in a singular manner 
with the description, though not with the sketch in the 
Cottonian MS., given on page 267. 

In the drawing upon the glass cartoon, the shrine, 
shaped like an ark, was placed upon a stone or marble 
platform which rested upon arches supported by six pillars, 
— three on either side. The space between these pillars 

1 Benedict, i. 2. 

2 I am told hy the Dean of Ely that it nearly resemliles a structure in 
Ely Catliedral, of unknown origin, forming part of the tomb of Bishop 
Hotham. — A. P. S. 



356 BECKET'S SHRINE IN PAINTED WINDOW. 

wtis open, and it was between them that crippled and dis- 
eased pilgrims were allowed to place themselves for closer 
approximntion to the Martyr's body, as mentioned by Bene- 
dict. This could not have been the case had the Cottoniau 
drawing been coiTcct, as no spaces are there given, but only a 
few very small openings. But in tlie glass painting it is 
clearly delineated, as the pillar of the architectural back- 
ground, passing behind the shrine, is again shown in the 
open space below. This platform was finished at the upper 
edge by a highly ornamented cornice, and upon this cornice 
the wooden cover of the shrine rested. 

The shrine was built of wood, the sides and sloping 
roof of it being ornamented with raised bands, or ribs, form- 
ing quati-efoils in the middle, and smaller half-circles along 
the edges. This mode of ornamentation was not uncom- 
mon at that date, as is shown upon works of the kind yet 
remaining. 

Inside the quatrefoils and semicircles so formed were raised, 
in like manner, ornaments resembling leaves of thi'ee and 
five lobes, the then usual ornament. The wooden ■ boards 
and raised bands and ornaments were then covered with 
plates of gold, and on the raised bands and ornamented 
leaves were set the most valuable of the gems. The won- 
drous carbuncle, or Regale of France, was doubtless set as a 
central ornament of one of the quatrefoils. 

The plain golden surface left between the quatrefoils 
and semicircles then required some ornament to break the 
bright monotonous sin-face ; and it was apparently covered 
with a diagonal trellis-work of golden wire, cramped at its 
intersections to the golden plates, as shown in the engraving. 
It was to this wire trellis-work that the loose jewels and 
pearls, rings, brooches, angels, images, and other ornaments 
offered at the shrine, were attached. 

In the interior rested the body of Becket, which was 
exposed to view by opening a highly ornamented door or 
window at the ends. The saint is emerging through one 
of these, in the view. 



BECKET'S SHKINE IN PAINTED WINDOW. 357 

These windows were occasionally njDened, to allow pil- 
grims, probably of the highest orders, who were blind or 
deaf, to insert their heads. 

The ridge, or upper part of the roof, was adorned with 
large groups of golden leaves. 

On comparison of the engraving, as thus explained, with 
the description given in the Cottonian MS., no discrepancy 
will be found ; but the drawing appears to be only a sim|)le 
outline approximating to the general form, or perhaps only 
of the wooden cover, but even that must have been orna- 
mented in some degree. 

G. A. 

The treatise of Benedict, to which allusion has several 
times been made in these pages, is a dociunent of consider- 
able interest, both as containing a contemporary and detailed 
accoiuit of these strange miracles, and also as highly illus- 
trative of the manners of the time. On some future occasion 
I may retiirn to it at length. I will here confine myself 
to a few particulars, which ought to have been incorporated 
into the body of the work. 

The earlier shrine in the crypt has nowhere been so fully 
described. It was first opened to the public gaze on April 
2, 1171.^ 

The body of the saint reposed in the marble sarcophagus 
in which it had been deposited on the day after the murder. 
Round the sarcophagus, for the sake of security, wag built 
a wall of large hewn stcmes, compacted with cement, iron, 
and lead. The wall rose to the height of a foot above the 
coffin, and the whole was covered by a large marble slab. 
In each side of the wall were two windows, to enable pil- 
grims to look in and kiss the tomb itself. In one of these 
windows it was that Henry laid his head during his flagella- 
tion. It was a work of difficulty — sometimes an occasion 
for miraculous interference — to thrust the head, still more 
the body, through these apertures. Some adventurous pil- 

1 Benedict, i. 30. 



358 BECKET'S SHRINE IN PAINTED WINDOW. 

grims crawled entirely thi'ough, and laid themselves at full 
length in the space intervening between the top of the sar- 
cophagus and the superincumbent slab ; and on one occasion 
the monks were in considerable apprehension lest the in- 
truder should be unable to creep out again. -^ 

The tomb — probably the marble covering — was stuck 
all over with tapers, — the ofierings of pilgrims, like that of 
Saint Eadegonde at Poitiers ; and in the darkness of the crypt 
and the draughts from the open windows, it was a matter of 
curiosity and importance to see which kept burning for the 
longest time.^ Votive memorials of waxen legs, feet, arms, 
anchors, huiag round.-' A monk always sat beside the tomb 
to receive the gifts, and to distribute the sacred water.'* 

The " water of Canterbury," or " the water of St. Thomas," 
as it was called,^ was originally contained in small earthen- 
ware pots, which were carried away in the pouches of the 
pilgrims. But the saint played so many freaks with his 
devotees (I use the language of Benedict himself®), by 
causing all manner of strange cracks, leaks, and breakages 
in these pots, that a young plumber at Canterbury con- 
ceived the bold design of checking the inconvenience by 
furnishing the pilgrims with leaden or tin bottles instead. 
This was the commencement of the " ampulles " of Canter- 
bury, and the " miracles of confraction " ceased.'' 

The water was used partly for washing, but chiefly (and 
this was peculiar^ to the Canterbury pilgrims) drunk as a 
medicine. The effect is described as almost always that of 
a violent emetic* 

A. P. S. 

1 Benedict, i. 40, 41, 5?, 54, 55. 2 ibid., ii. 13. 

3 Ibid., i. 77; ii. 7, 44. 4 ibid., iij. 41, 58. 

5 Ibid., i. 42, 4.3. 

6 JucTinduni qTioddam miraculum, i. 43; Ludus Martyris, i. 43; Jucun- 
ditatis Miraciiln, i. 46. 

■7 Benedict, ii. 35. 8 Ibid., i. 13. 

9 Ibid., i. .3.3, 34, 84 ; ii -30 ; iii. 69. 



INDEX. 



Aberbrothock, 228. 

Alfege, Saint, tomb of, 77, 225. 

Augustine, Saint, mission of, 30 ; landing at Ebbe's Fleet, 32, 33 ; inter- 
view with Ethelbert, 3G-39 ; arrival at Canterbury, 40 ; Stable-gate, 
41; baptism of Ethelbert, 41 ; worship at St. Pancras, 42; monas- 
tery, library, etc., of, 46 ; foundation of Sees of Rochester and Lon- 
don, 49 ; death, 50 ; effects of his mission, 53 ; character, 59, 60. 

Augustine's, St., Abbey, 46. 83, 221, 224, 232, 257. 

Avranches, Cathedral of, 136. 

Becket, sources of information, 69, 70 ; return from France, 70, con- 
troversy with Archbishop of York, 71 ; parting with Abbot of St. 
Albans, 74 ; insults from Brocs of Saltwood, 75 ; scene in cathedral 
on Christmas Day, 76 ; the fatal Tuesday, 84 ; apjiearance of Becket, 
86 ; interview with knights, 88-94 ; retreats to cathedral, 94 ; mir- 
acle of lock, 96 ; scene in cathedral, 97 ; entrance of knights, 98 ; 
"The Martyrdom," 101-109; watching over his dead body, 110; 
discovery of hair shirt, 112 ; unwrapping his body, 115-117 ; burial, 
117 ; canonization, 119; effect of martyrdom and spread of his wor- 
ship, 226-232; shrine erected, 236; translation in 1220, 242; well, 
272,305,314; abolition of festival, 287; trial, 289-292; destruction 
of shrine, 294, 315. 

Benedict, 69, 232. 

Bertha, 34, 51. 

Black Prince, birth of, 152; qualities, 153; education at Queen's 
College, 153,215; name given, 160; visits Canterbury, 164; well at 
Ilarbledown, 164; marriage, 165; chantry in crypt, 165; Spanish 
campaign, 166; return — illness, 167, appears in parliament, 168; 
death-bed, 168; exorcism by Bishop of Bangor, 170; death, 171; 
mourning, 171, 172; funeral, 173-176, 203; tomb, 177; effect of 
life, 181-183 ; ordinance of Chantries, 187; will, 194. 

Bohemian Embassy, 243. 

Bret, or Brito, 80, 111, 132, 229. 

Broc family, 73, 75, 77, 83, 84, 109. 



360 INDEX. 

Canterbury Cathedral, first eiulowment of, 44 ; primacy, 53, 54 ; 
scene in, 76, 77 ; at the time of the nmrder, 98-101 ; desecratiou ami 
reconsecratiou of, 118; King Henry's penance in, 137; historical 
lessons of, 143; tombs in, 151 ; Black Prince's visit to, 164; insig- 
nificance before murder of Becket, 220; Tilgrims' entrance to, 258; 
crypt, 261 ; Shrine, 265, 267, 293, 294. 

Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, 245-250. 

Chequers Inn, 255. 

Chichele, 152, 181, 182. 

Colet, Dean, 280-285. 

Craumer, 288. 

Crescent, 236, 343. 

Cressy, battle of, 155-159. 

Crown, Becket's, 265, 331. 

Ebbe's Fleet, 32-34, 63. 
Edward I., 276, 277. 
Erasmus, 280-285, 300. 

Ethelbert, King, 34 ; interview with Augustine, 34-39 ; baptism of, 
41 ; death of, 52. 

Fawkes' Hall,- 166. 
Fitzranulph, 126. 
Fitzurse, 80, 88. 

GoRiiAM in Normandy, 135. 

Gregory the Great, character, 26, 27 ; dialogue with Anglo-Saxon 
slaves, 28-30 ; effects on English churcli, 53-56. 

Harbledown, 167, 252, 284, 324; Black Prince's well at, 164. 
Harrow, Becket parts with Abbot of St. Albans at, 74; vicar excom 

municated, 77. 
Henry II., fury, 79; remor.se, 134; penance, 134-142; deatli, 240. 
Henry III., 239. 
Henry IV., 176. 
Henry VIII., 291, 292, 300. 

IvNS for pilgrims, 255. 
Isabella, Queen, 276. 

John, King of England, 79, 234. 

John, King of France, 160, 162, 276, 323. 

Jubilees, 253, 275, 286, 

Langton, 239, 301 
Limoges, siege of, 183. 
Lollards, 278. 



INDEX. 3G1 

Londou, See of, 49, 54, 72 ; pilgrims' approach from, 245 ; worship of 

Becket iu, 230. 
Louis VII., 270, 323. 
Lyons, Chapel of bt. Thomas at, 227. 

Malling, South, turniijg table at, 120. 

Martiu's, St., Church, 4U, tJl. 

Mary, Queeu, 292, 295. 

Miracles, 96, 120, 337, 348, 351, 352, 358. 

Moutreuil, visit of Madame de, 293. 

Moreville, Hugh de, 80, 109, 229. 

Pancras, St., Church of, 43. 
Pilgrims, 241, 265, 351. 
Pilgrims' Koad, 244, 316. 
I'ilgrims' signs, 272-274, 358. 
Poitiers, battle of, 160-164. 

Quken's College, Oxford, 153, 215. 

Reculveu, 45, 52. 

Regale of Frauce, 270, 295. 

Richard II., 338. 

Richborough, 33, 39. 

Rochester, foundation of See of, 49. 

Salt'.vood Castle, 73, 83. 

Sandwich, 71, 243, 310. 

Sens, 227, 235. 

Southampton, Henry II. arrives at, 139 ; pilgrims' approach from, 244. 

Stable-gate, 41. 

Sudbury, Simon of, 152, 175, 279. 

Sword, of Bret, 107, 229; of Moreville, 229 ; of the Black Prince, 177. 

Tabard Inn, 249 

" Thomas," name of, 229. 

Tracy, 80, 126. 

Verona, Church of St. Thomas at, 227. 

William the Englishman and of Sens, 235. 
William Thomas, 314. 
William the Lion, 228. 
Wilsnake, 338 
Wycliffe, 155, 215. 

YoBK, controversy with Archbishop of, 72, 73 



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